A breath-defying situation
by Frisk15
Summary: Speeding towards a crime scene, Steve McGarrett kept his eyes on the small, winding road and look-out for oncoming traffic. If only he had eyes in the side of his head. - Whump/Recovery/Friendship - Originally a one-shot which was developed into a full story by popular demand.
1. A call for help

A BREATH-DEFYING SITUATION

He tries to remember how he got here, ended up in this situation. A situation that doesn't look like it will have a very positive outcome; at least, not for him.

* * *

There had been the desperate call for back-up by HPD, then scattered bits of info coming over the radio as an increasing number of cops responded to come to the aid of fellow officers. He'd been by himself, doing a last follow-up on a case they were about to close, tying up loose ends before heading on over to HQ to call it a day.

"What do you have for me, Chin?"

His team mate's voice sounded slightly confused when he came back to him over the radio.

"Don't really know, boss. It was supposed to be a simple arrest but it turned into a shoot-out. As far as I can tell there are three officers down; the original arresting officers as well as one man from the second squad car HPD sent over. Two more cars were sent in but it seems they got lured into a trap; they're being pinned down as we speak."

He'd swore, both out of frustration as well as concern for the safety of the men out there. "OK, tell Danny and Lou I'll meet up with them there. Keep me updated." Chin had told him Danny and Lou were already on their way over, then signed off.

And then ...

He'd been close to the scene, just a few more miles. As he took the sharp turn in the road, concentrating hard on keeping the Silverado under control while anticipating possible oncoming traffic, he never expected a car coming down out of a driveway, coming at him hard and fast, slamming into the side of his truck.

For one dazed moment after his truck went off the side of the road it hung suspended, caught by roots and vines and branches. Hanging against the door, wedged between deployed airbags, he had looked up and seen somebody standing above him, staring down.

Then the natural safety net had proven to be too weak and the truck had started sliding down hill, back end first. Slowly at first but then gathering momentum, going faster and faster, violently slamming his body against the door and steering wheel until both the truck and his world had come to a crashing halt.

He had blacked out.

* * *

So here he is now.

Trapped inside what's left of the truck, wrenched upside down, hanging in seat belts which are meant to save his life. Seat belts which have probably kept him from dying on impact, but are now slowly but surely choking what little life he has left out of him.

He can't breathe ...


	2. Pinned down

2\. PINNED DOWN

* * *

"Where the fuck is that _coming_ from?!" Lou swears as two bullets impact near his head in rapid succession. He glances over and sees Kono ripping off a strip from the bottom of Danny's shirt, then wrapping it around his bleeding arm. He can vaguely make out the words _"... good shirt ..."_ and _" ... I'm good ..."_.

Lou smiles grimly. They're not good, actually. The bullets are coming from multiple locations, most of them from inside the house. There's another shooter, however, who takes out officers with marked precision. There are now four officers lying dead on the ground, and another ten or so are wounded, ranging from light injuries to critical. It seems wherever they try to take cover, a bullet will still find them.

"You OK, Lou?" Danny hollers and watches his team mate duck for cover. The next instant several bullets fly past him and he swears long and hard. Fumbling with his phone, his left hand slippery from the blood running down his arm, he calls Chin.

"Chin, where the fuck is Steve?! We could really use those SEAL skills now to take out these assholes!" Danny sounds frustrated, angry at the fact that this situation is completely out of their control.

"I don't understand, Danny. He should've been there at least twenty minutes ago. Last time I talked to him he was just a few miles out." Chin sounds surprised, and an uneasy feeling settles in the pit of Danny's stomach. Just then a bullet smashes the phone from his hands, making him yelp at the pain in his fingers.

"Mother_fucker_! Ahhh, that hurts ..." As he flexes his fingers, he sees Kono staring at a point up and to the left of them, then quickly look back at him. "I know where that gunman is at. Don't stare because then he'll know we spotted him, but he's up in the trees." Danny looks at her, raising an eyebrow. "That last shot, the sun hit his scope."

"Good girl." He pats her on the shoulder. "Now how the hell do you propose to get there without being shredded to pieces?" Kono looks around her, then throws Danny a tight little smile. "If I crawl underneath the car and make it to the other side, I can get my rifle out without him noticing. Then I'll just take him out from inside the car."

Danny frowns at her. "You'll never be able to make it, the Camaro sits pretty low." She looks at him. "Not unless I take off my vest." Danny shakes his head. "No no no, your are _not_, I repeat _not_ going to take your vest off! You might as well stand up with a sign saying _Please shoot me, I'm an idiot _." Just then another officer is hit; bleeding profusely from a gunshot wound to the leg, he manages to crawl behind a little wall.

"Fine, have it your way. We'll just stay here then and wait to be picked off one by one like fish in a barrel!" Kono glowers at him, and Danny grimaces, sucking in air between his teeth. She's right, and he knows it. The thought of letting their youngest team member put her life in danger like that just doesn't sit well with him.

What would Steve do? Danny utters a short barking laugh. Steve, well of course _Steve_ would have already thrown tear gas cannisters into the house, ninja'd his way up a wall and inside, taken out the bad guys and then use a grenade launcher to take out the guy in the tree. Danny sighs, wondering for the umpteenth time where Steve is.

Kono is still looking at him, and he manages to pull himself together into the here and now. "OK, fine, you're right. But remember: if you get shot and killed, I'll never talk to you again!" Smiling at him, she quickly slips out of her vest, then flattens herself against the ground. Making little scuffling movements, she manages to inch her way underneath the car.

A bullet shatters the window of the door Danny is hiding behind, showering him with shards, and he angrily huffs. "That's my _car_, asshole! Just wait 'till Kono has you tumbling from that tree like an over-ripe pineapple; I'll be stomping you into pineapple sauce!" He glances over his shoulder, just in time to see Kono disappear completely underneath the car.

Seconds later he hears the back passenger door on the other side open. "I'm in, Danny" Kono says in a muffled voice. "Great, so how are you planning on doing this?" He keeps staring at the house so he doesn't give away the fact that they know where the sniper is holed up. Kono remains silent for a moment, then he suddenly hears her breathing almost in his right ear, making him jump.

"Sheesh, give a guy a warning next time; if I don't get popped by some crazed sniper, my team mate will just give me a heart attack." He hears her snigger. "OK, Danny, if you can just sit very still, I'm going to use you as a stand to rest the rifle on. That way the guy hopefully won't see me until it's too late."

He utters a hesitant "OK" then freezes in place. The next moment he feels something sliding over his left shoulder, coming to rest just above his collar bone. "OK, I'm sorry but this is probably gonna be uncomfortable. Just sit still for a second ..."

Kono is hunched down behind the driver's seat, resting her rifle both on the side of the seat and Danny's shoulder. She aims through the shattered window at where she saw the sun glinting off the sniper's scope, then waits. A minute later a bullet impacts a stone wall just above the head of an officer, and a simultaneous flash comes from the trees.

"Gotcha, asshole" she whispers, and gently squeezes the trigger. Danny yelps as the sound of the discharging rifle suddenly causes a high pitched whine in his left ear, then utters a shout as he sees a figure tumbling from the tree to his left. "You got him!" He quickly turns around to see the look of triumph flash across Kono's face. "Well done you, Rookie." He smiles at her.

Kono's action hasn't gone unnoticed, and Lou and the officers now fully concentrate on the gunmen inside the house. Without the threat coming from the trees, they manage to move in closer and take out the remaining five gunmen within the next half hour, and minutes later several ambulances which had been on stand-by just outside the grounds rush in to start treating and transporting the wounded.

An EMT checks Danny's arm, then cleans it and re-bandages it for him. He sadly looks on as the four dead officers are loaded into body bags, then rolled away. Lou comes to stand next to him, first clapping Kono on the shoulder. "That was some fine shooting there, young lady. You had him tumbling from that tree like a ripe coconut." Kono smiles at him.

"What I'd like to know" says Danny, squinting at the sun now disappearing over the ridge, "is where the hell Steve is."

* * *

He's swimming in and out of consciousness, his head and neck bent at an impossible angle, his chin wedged against his chest.

There's a strange sound which momentarily manages to grab his attention. A high pitched wheeze followed by a rattle, then another wheeze followed by a rattle. It takes him several minutes to realize it's his own breathing, the wheezing sound caused by the immense effort of drawing air into his lungs, the rattle when he breathes out again.

And every time he breathes out, it seems there's less and less room for his lungs to expand, less room to draw in oxygen.

His right arm lies against the roof of the car, wrapped in an angle around his head. His left arm is stuck, and when he tries to move it, a white hot flash of searing pain shoots up from his fingers to his shoulder. He licks his lips, his tongue discerning a salty, metallic taste. There's blood coming from his mouth.

Moving his head ever so slightly he looks to the left. Somehow, his left arm has become wedged between the remnants of the door on the driver's side, almost as if somebody slammed his arm between the door. It looks a mess.

He grays out again, floating in a tiny bubble inside his mind. _Keep me updated._ Chin's voice telling him Danny and Lou are on their way. On their way where? And where are they?

The wheezing and rattling sounds draw him back to consciousness. He manages to open his eyes but it's still dark, the inside of what used to be the truck cabin gloomy. Trying to inventorize, he mentally reaches out to his legs. They feel ... well, they don't feel. Period. There's a numbness below, or rather above his chest.

He tries to move his right arm, bring it up from behind his head. It feels as if he's dead lifting an elephant, the arm heavy and unresponsive. When he puts more effort behind the movement, bunching together his stomach muscles, he feels something pop inside his chest. He screams and blacks out again.

A little later he comes to again, listening to himself wheeze and rattle. Trying to focus, taking in as much of his surroundings as possible, he suddenly feels something cold and metallic wedged against his right hand. Stretching out his fingers, manipulating the form, he realizes it's his P226, popped from its holster during the violent decent down hill.

Then he becomes aware of another sound. Small, soft, ticking sounds on the metal around him. He listens for a while, trying to figure out what it is. Then he knows.

It's raining.

* * *

Danny is pacing near the PC table at Five-0 HQ, becoming increasingly agitated. "Where the hell is he?! What the fuck happened; I mean, he can't just disappear off the face of the earth, right?" Chin has been trying to call Steve's cell phone numerous times now, tried pinging it, but there's no trace.

"I don't know, Danny." Chin repeats what he has been saying over and over again, mumbling softly under his breath. "He told me to keep him updated." His fingers zoom over the PC table, trying to find a sign of Steve's phone, of Steve's car; of Steve. Nothing.

Lou comes walking in, going straight to the PC table. "They identified the sniper Kono shot from the tree. Max is sending the info over as we speak." Chin opens the incoming file, then moves it to one of the screens. Within minutes of going through the international databases he has a match.

"Guys, meet Slobodan or Boban Lukic. Serb national, served five to ten for excessive violence used during his military career. Lukic became a gun for hire after his release in 2007. And, get this, he's an _expensive_ gun for hire."

They stare at the scree, taking in the information. "So how does a an expensive Serb hit-man get involved with a simple drug bust on Oahu?" Lou has a questioning look on his face, sensing the same bewilderment in his team mates. It really was supposed to be a simple drug bust. The way the situation had escalated made no sense at all.

"Well" says Danny, "how about we drag one of those guys who was taking pot shots at us into Interrogation and start asking some questions. Because I'd like to have some answers!"

* * *

Steve is in a bad place, by the sound of it. Let's hope the team finds him in time.


	3. Angry cops and angry skies

*NOTE* I think the muse has gotten hold of some illicit drugs; she seems to be cruising right along this weekend. Where were we again? Oh yes, in a bad place ...

"All silent save the dripping rain." - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

* * *

3\. ANGRY COPS AND ANGRY SKIES

"Well, slick; things don't look too good for you from where I'm standing." Lou stares at the chubby young Hawaiian cuffed to the chair in Interrogation. "Conspiracy to murder, resisting arrest; just to name a few charges that we're gonna make stick to you."

Maka swallows convulsively. He's in way over his head; letting his big cousin Tony talk him into making a large wad of money turns out to be the worst decision of his short life.

"You're gonna be enjoying a view from behind vertical blinds for a long time to come." Lou tilts his head. "Of course a pretty boy like yourself could secure privileges in jail if you're willing to, ehm, provide a certain service." Lou watches the young man squeeze his eyes shut, as if trying to block out some decidedly unpleasant images.

Lou grins. "Anyway, you stay put, and in a little while some nice police officers will come to take you away. Now I wouldn't be surprised if they're gonna take the long, scenic route to jail. I'm sure they want to talk to you about the four colleagues that lost their lives out on telephone Road this afternoon."

Throwing one last look at the terrified youngster, Lou opens the door and walks out. Danny is leaning against the wall just outside the door, rubbing his wounded arm. "Think he might spill the beans?" Lou grins. "Give it half an hour or so, and he'll start squealing like a stuck pig."

They walk back to Chin and Kono, converging around the PC table. Chin looks up. "Hey guys. I've been trying to work out the route Steve might have taken to get to Telephone Road. Do any of you remember what he was doing just before we got the call from HPD?"

Danny frowns, trying to think back. "He was going to check up on some last details with regard to the Pahia case so we could close that, but I don't think he said anything specific about where he was going." Chin sighs. "I've checked for incident reports on Tantalus Drive or any of the nearby roads involving a Silverado, but so far nothing."

They stand in silence, frustrated. It's as if their boss and friend has gone up in thin air.

* * *

_Steve. Hey, Steve!_

The voice is insistent, demanding his attention, the words bright white flashes which penetrate the darkness enveloping his mind.

_Come on, man; what are you doing?_

What's he doing? Nothing. Just hanging around. Literally.

_Exactly, man; you're doing nothing!_

The voice, sounding eerily like Danny, is annoyed, almost angry. It's expecting him to do something; but what?

_How about trying to get out of this mess. Try anything to get out of there._

He's becoming irritated. _Go away_ he thinks. There's nothing he can do about this situation. He's trapped inside a wreck somewhere down the side of a mountain. Not only that, he's a physical wreck himself; shattered, broken.

_So you're gonna quit? Give up?_

It sounds tempting. It will be so much easier to just let himself sink deeper into the darkness, to allow it to draw him down completely. Just stop fighting for every breath, stop struggling to draw air into his lungs, into a chest that brings agony with every movement.

_I see. You're going to let down the team. Screw 'em, right?_

The team? A small frown appears on his face, images flash behind his eyelids. Images of Chin, Kono, Lou ... Danny. No, he can't let them down, he has a responsibility towards them. He starts feebly struggling towards consciousness.

_That's it; fight! Use those bad-ass SEAL skills of yours, babe._

Using every last bit of will power, he claws his way up from the darkness. When he finally manages to surface into consciousness, the first thing that penetrates his awareness is a gut-wrenching pain. He's screaming inside, but all that comes out is a soft groan. Then he slowly opens his eyes, blinking.

The inside of the pickup is now completely dark, too dark even to make out shadows. He's still in the same position; one arm above his head, the other trapped in the door. His legs are caught behind the console and the steering column; at least, he thinks they are. He still can't feel them.

And there's that sound again, the wheezing and rattling every time he inhales and exhales. He feels his chest heave with the effort of every agonizing lung full of air he tries to draw in; feels the seat belt tightly wrapped around his neck, cutting into the flesh beneath his chin. Slowly choking him.

Something's different though, has changed since the last time he was conscious. It's not just the cold, chilling him to the core. It takes him a little while to figure out what it is, but then he gets it.

There's water inside the cabin.

* * *

"Let's go see if the canary will sing before they cage it." Lou gets up from his chair, looks outside, frowns. It's now completely dark, and raining harder. The two HPD officers coming to collect the young suspect shook themselves like wet dogs once inside, gratefully accepting the warm mugs of coffee supplied by Kono. They now sit at the conference table, nursing the hot beverage.

Danny has been hopping from one leg to the other the past twenty minutes. He's anxious, frustrated about Steve's disappearance and the fact that they don't have a clue on how to proceed. His plan to just hop in his car, start driving around to see if he can find a trace of Steve or his pickup, has been shot down by his team mates.

"Where would you go, Danny; where would you start? It's dark and you don't know where to look. Besides, it's pouring down."

Chin continues to check for accident reports, calling every medical facility on the island to see if they have admitted Steve, reaching out to every garage to see if the Silverado has been brought in, checking every odd occurrence reported by highway maintenance crews.

So far he's come up empty handed, and as the evening progresses, more and more of the phone calls he places remain unanswered.

"Come on, Danny, join me in Interrogation. Get your mind off things for a while." Sighing, Danny follows Lou towards the interrogation room. When they enter, Maka startles like a spooked animal, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

"So, you ready to go with the HPD officers?" The young man's glance darts between the two Five-0 members looking at him. Danny walks towards him, hands in his pockets, a frown on his face. He stares at Maka for a while, then he bends over, leaning towards him.

"What do you know about Slobodan Lukic? Why was there an expensive hit-man waiting for the police?"

Maka nervously licks his lips, scrapes his throat. "I know nothing about no Serb hit-man, honestly."

Danny frowns, looks at Lou, then back at the Hawaiian teenager, then back at Lou again. "Did I mention he was Serbian? I don't think I said he was Serbian. All I did was mention his name, not his nationality." He looks back and stares at Maka, suddenly reaching out and grabbing the back of the chair he's sitting on.

"You better start talking, and start talking _fast_, or what the HPD officers would like to do to you will be a walk in the fucking park compared to what _I'll_ do to you!" Maka recoils, a look of outright fear on his face as the angry detective menacingly hovers over him.

"All right, man, OK." Nervously licking his lips again, he continues: "Tony, that's my cousin, he said we could make some easy bucks, some big money. All we had to do was keep these cops in place, you know, make sure they couldn't leave."

He swallows, his throat dry with anxiety. Danny's deepening frown urges him on. "There was this dude, this _haole_ guy who gave us instructions where to set up in the house. He gave us the guns. This other guy - you know, that Serb you just mentioned - he picked himself a spot in the trees to make sure nobody would get out. He's the one that was making the kill shots, not us."

Lou and Danny look at each other, completely bewildered. Then Lou turns back to Maka. "Why did you have to keep the police in place, why kill them? It was a simple arrest; no big names, no long jail sentences ..." Maka licks his lips again. "It wasn't about the arrest, man. Like I said, it was about getting as many cops there as possible, and keeping them there."

Frowning, Lou turns towards Danny. "This make sense to you? Because it sure as hell doesn't make any sense to me." Danny absentmindedly rubs his arm. "Some kind of retaliation, somebody who has a severe grudge against the police?" He mulls things over in his mind, retracing the events.

Turning towards Maka, Danny glowers at him. "Who wanted the cops dead? Which one of the two men?" The young man shakes his head. "I don't know, man. Could be them, or it could be the other guy."

Lou steps up towards the chair. "_What_ other guy? Why didn't you mentioned him before? Talk!" He slams his hand down on the back of the chair, causing Maka to jump. "Sorry! This other guy, he left with the first _haole_ just before the cops started arriving. Some long tall dude, never said a word."

"So there were three men; the hit-man, the _haole_ and the tall guy. That's it? You sure?" Lou glowers at Maka, who nods. "Anything else you think you might want to tell us, something you might have forgotten?" The young man shakes his head, then watches with some anxiety as Danny closes in on him again.

"How about you give us a description of these two men. We already know who the hit-man is, we got him down in the morgue." Maka nervously scrapes his throat. "The guy who gave us the guns was a short guy, dark hair, I don't know, something like thirty years old. The other guy, the tall one, he was bald, skinny. He looked sick or something, very pale."

Something clicks in Danny's mind. "Anything else about this man you can remember, anything unusual?" Maka frowns, then nods. "Yeah, he had this bad-ass scar on his head, running all the way over the top. Like somebody put an ax into him."

Danny turns towards Lou, a frown on his face. "That sounds like Peter Wright. We never did manage to find out whether or not he left the island." Lou nods. "Guess now we know."

The Wright case had been of particular interest to him because it tied back to an old case he had worked on in Chicago. Unfortunately, they hadn't found enough evidence to make anything stick to the man, and he had walked. When Wright came to Oahu several months ago, he had tried setting up a Crystal Meth network. Five-0 picked up on his intentions, started hounding him, and after several weeks of hard work and gathering information, they tightened the net around him, effectively shutting him down. He managed to evade arrest, but there was no way he could ever go back into business again.

Lou stares at Maka. "Well, that information basically got us nowhere, but thanks anyway." He steps up to the chair, unlocks the handcuffs and then re-locks them behind Maka's back. "Time for you to be introduced to prison life, my friend."

Danny looks at Maka, then stops Lou just as he's about to walk out into the hallway. "Tell me, did these guys say anything about where they were going; you know, when they left, right before you and your buddies started killing innocent cops?"

Maka blanches. "Hey, like I told you, we didn't kill _anybody_ ! That was all that Serb guy's doing, man!" Danny nods. "Yeah, yeah, so you told us; you're as innocent as a choir boy. Now answer the fucking question; did they say where they were going, do you have any idea where they went?"

The young Hawaiian shrugs. "Something about taking care of business, about tying off loose ends. They didn't say where or what. The only thing the _haole_ said was that it was important to keep the cops there as long as possible, especially you guys."

Lou roughly turns Maka around, pulling him close until their faces almost touch. "What do you mean, especially _us_ guys; you mean Five-0?!" Maka nods, terrified. "He said that, if Five-0 turned up, we weren't allowed to let you leave, no matter what happened. That's _all_ man, honestly!"

Lou swings him around again and walks towards the main room, Danny in his wake. When the HPD officers see them enter, they get up from the conference table. Glowering, they take over custody of Maka, then march him out the door.

"I'm telling you, I wouldn't want to trade places with that kid" Lou muses. Chin nods. "Even though it's against regulation, chances are he'll arrive at the prison in worse shape than when he left here. They're not too big on cop killers here."

Danny sits down at the conference table, hands running though his hair, then straightening it back up again. He rocks the chair from two legs to four and back again, frowning, thinking about the things the young Hawaiian has been saying. _Tying off loose ends ... we weren't allowed to let you leave ..._

He has the feeling he is missing something; something important.

* * *

The voice is nagging him again, obviously displeased at his lack of progress.

_Come on, Steve; put a little heart into it._

He groans, both at being rebuked and because trying to move his right arm is excruciatingly painful. Wiggling his fingers, now completely numbed by the cold water flowing across them, he tries to inch closer to his gun. Finally, he feels something hard bump against his fingers.

_There you go. Now grab it._

He tries, he honest to God tries, but his wet, numb fingers keep losing their grip on the water-slicked metal. A sudden bright flash, almost immediately followed by a roll of thunder, causes him to spasm. He groans out loud as the spasm sends white hot shards of pain shooting through his entire body.

_OK, no problem. Just catch your breath and try again._

Catching his breath; that's almost funny. He hears the wheeze as he draws in air, feels the anguish in his chest as it moves to expand his lungs. When he tries to move his head to relieve the strain on his neck, still bent at a nearly impossible angle, as well as lift his chin still digging into his chest, he feels the seatbelt tighten even further, wrapping itself around his painfully swollen throat.

_Uh oh; that wasn't a smart move I think._

He agrees. The flow of air into his lungs is now so severely restricted that dark spots start floating in front of his eyes. He knows it will only take a little while longer before he passes out, before his system shuts down due to lack of oxygen. Whatever he does, he has to do it quickly.

_That's right, just keep moving, keep trying. If you pass out, well ... you know._

Yeah, he knows. If he passes out now, he will not wake up again. It will be Game Over. So he uses every ounce of strength he has left to extend his hand just a little further, to make his fingers cover just a little more distance.

When they touch the cold metal of the gun again, he forces himself to remain calm. There are now more spots dancing across his vision, but he concentrates on making sure he has a good grip on his weapon before trying to retrieve it.

_That's it, Steve. Slowly, but not too slow please. I think you're fading ..._

The voice is right; he is fading, and fading fast. As he strains one last time, the seat belt tightening even further by the movement, he feels his fingers wrap themselves around the grip. Wanting to ensure he won't lose it, he snakes a finger through the trigger guard, securing the gun in his hand.

Then he wonders why he has made the effort. After all, dead men have no use for weapons.

He blacks out.


	4. Downhill

"The road uphill and the road downhill are one and the same."

\- Heraclitus of Ephesus -

* * *

4\. DOWNHILL

The massive tree had lost its foothold during the last storm. Its roots tore massive gouges in the earth as it went down, weakening the intertwined and underlying root systems of nearby smaller trees. Road maintenance crews had closed the road for almost a whole day as they reduced the tree to manageable chunks and got it off the tarmac.

The path the tree tore through the vegetation was quickly filled in by new growth, but the deep scars it left in the soil were more permanent. Small critters had started using the openings in the ground as ready-made, prefab burrows, further preventing the earth from healing itself.

It had been steadily raining hard now for almost six hours straight. Water was filling the deep scars in the soil, evicting the quickest of the burrows' inhabitants, sadly drowning the slowest and youngest. The water-logged soil started exerting pressure on the weakened root systems, slowly but surely causing them to lose their grip on the underlying earth.

And the rain had no intention of letting up.

* * *

The body inside the wrecked Silverado contains only the tiniest flicker of life. It is noticeable when the chest expands ever so slightly, accompanied by a high-pitched, short tormented wheeze. When the chest deflates again, it is with an abrupt, wet rattling sound.

And the intervals between inhaling, exhaling and inhaling again are becoming longer.

* * *

They've finally decided to all go home and grab a few hours of sleep. Phones are no longer answered, information no longer coming in. Lou and Chin have basically forced Danny out of HQ, reminding him that he needs a clear mind if he is to further investigate the disappearance of their boss. Their friend.

Steve has now been missing for over six hours.

When Danny arrives home, he remains in his car. His mind is continuously selecting, deselecting and processing all the information of the day, over and over again, desperate to find a clue as to what has happened to Steve. _Detective Williams; what a joke! Can't even find my own partner ..._

He finally gets out of the car, moving like an old man. Inside the house, he doesn't bother to turn on the light, to undress. All he needs is a few hours of sleep and then he'll head back to HQ. He's going to just crash on the couch, making sure he's uncomfortable enough to wake up in time.

At first he can't even fall asleep. Steve's features keep appearing in front of his eyes; smiling, angry, displaying that annoying _aneurysm_ face. He can't imagine a life where Steve is no longer there, _refuses_ to contemplate such an option. They need to find him, and find him fast.

Danny listens to the rain, and finally drifts off to sleep.

* * *

The shift is barely noticeable at first. Small clumps of earth start tumbling down the hill, crumbling apart and turning to slush before ever reaching the edge of the road. The water filled pockets underneath the tree roots expand, pushing more soil from around and underneath them, further weakening the hold the trees have on the earth.

When the point is reached where the soil is fully saturated, the earth no longer can absorb the water, the dirt liquefies. From that point on, events unfold rapidly. The mud drags the soil with it, absorbs it, and the trees finally lose their desperate hold on the earth.

Small, then bigger trees start sliding down the mountain side, some of them tumbling to the side and completely blocking the driveway beneath it, the rest piling up on the road. Where they once stood, a wide swath has been cut through the vegetation, a scar etched along the mountain side, allowing the torrential rain to run downhill like a newly created waterfall.

The rest of the soil is dragged along in its wake, turning to mud, transforming into a thick sludge which pulls and pushes everything along. It flows towards the road, is briefly halted by the trees, then rushes over and around them, continuing its downhill course.

As mud and water continue on their downwards journey, the stream picks up more top soil, becoming thicker, denser ... deadlier. Anything which is not quick or alert enough to crawl, skitter or run out of its way is hungrily absorbed by the river of mud, adding to its mass.

When the stream encounters the Silverado nearly a hundred feet further down, it engulfs it completely. Flowing around it, burrowing a way underneath, it easily dislodges the wreck, then drags it along. The pickup rolls over twice, the last tumble ripping the driver's side door from its hinges; then it's carried downhill by the stream.

Another fifty feet further down the mountain, the Silverado becomes lodged between two trees, resisting any further attempt by the mud to drag it along.

The sludge tears at it like a hungry animal, rushing over, under and through it trying to devour the crumpled metal, the wreck's contents. It manages to partially dislodge the unmoving body, trying to force it out. The trees and seat-belts resist, keeping both the car and its precious cargo in place.

The sludge moves on.

* * *

The first thing Danny notices when he wakes up is that it's no longer raining. The second thing is that all his muscles are sore, cramped from sleeping in an awkward position. He glances at his watch, blinks, sees it's just past seven in the morning. Groaning, he sits upright, rubs his eyes, tries to emerge from the sleep fog which is holding his brain hostage. Tries to think clearly.

An instant later he's wide awake. _Steve !_ He runs into the bathroom, brushes his teeth with one hand while the other removes his shirt, undoes his belt. After he spits and rinses, he hurries to undress. Looking at the shower he decides to skip that, throws water on his face, uses deodorant, throws on new clothes, and within minutes he's inside the car and heading towards HQ.

Chin's already there when he walks in. "Morning, Danny. There's fresh coffee if you want." Danny nods, walks over to pour himself a mug full, then goes back to Chin. "Anything new come in this morning?" Chin shakes his head. "I gave all the medical facilities a call right after I got in; no reports on accidents, fatalities ..."

Frowning, Danny sips his coffee. "Could you pull up the Peter Wright case, please?" Chin gives him a surprised look. "Peter Wright? Wasn't that the Meth guy from Chicago?" Danny nods. "The kid Lou and I interrogated last night described one of the perps involved in the shoot-out yesterday, and we immediately thought of him; it fit his description."

Chin flicks through some files, then pulls up the Wright case. Danny stares at the image; it does indeed matches Maka's description. Wright is gaunt, thin to the point of looking emaciated, with a sickly, pale skin color. His head is bald, but there's no scar on it.

"What else do we know about him?" Chin flicks through some of the digital pages. "Current location unknown; last seen at the place where we did the final bust. He somehow slipped through the net, because we never did manage to apprehend him."

That little nagging sensation of missing something, of overlooking one important detail pops up in Danny's head again. Frowning, he takes another sip of his coffee, grimacing when he finds it has turned cold. Then his attention is diverted by Lou and Kono walking in.

* * *

_Steve!_

_***  
_

_Hey, Steve!_

_***  
_

_Wake up, man!_

The voice is barely audible, filtering through intermittently. It's a slight annoyance, easily ignored. He chooses to remain in the dark, in a place which is not quite life, yet not quite death. It's a very still place, a serene place. At least it was, until the voice started buzzing through like some annoying insect.

_You're not dead you know. In case you're wondering ..._

No, he isn't wondering. He's not wondering about anything, his mind completely blank, empty of thoughts. It's like floating submerged in a bath tub, all sensory input cut off. Like a babe in the womb.

_A womb? Seriously, Steve? How 'bout you're stuck in a fucking wreck!_

Womb, wreck ... it doesn't really matter anyway. He's OK with where he is, OK with the darkness. And he doesn't believe the voice, knows he's dead, because he'd been slowly choking; had blacked out because he was being deprived of oxygen. And a person needs oxygen to live.

_But you're not choking anymore._

This does manage to grab his attention. Part of his subconscious engages itself with this notion, slowly examines it, turns it over. Maybe the voice is right after all, maybe he's not dead. He doesn't know how to find out, though; is not even sure he wants to find out, if it means leaving this quiet, peaceful place.

_Chicken. Ladies and gentlemen, Steve McGarrett, super SEAL, is a quitter._

Some part of his mind takes affront to that, is actually outraged. He's no quitter! Never has been ...

_Really? So why not try to wake up then?_

Wake up? His mind tentatively puts out feelers, tries to sense anything else besides the darkness suffusing it. Then he feels himself floating upwards, as if his will to live has suddenly kicked in and transformed itself into a buoyancy device which is lifting him up from the darkness.

_There you go! Up and away, super SEAL!_

He ignores the voice, emerging from the darkness as if he's struggling his way out of a huge oil slick; it tries to stick to him, draw him down; tries to keep him from rising further towards consciousness. Actively fighting now, he pushes himself upwards, until he completely emerges from the dark.

_Well done!_

This time, when the pain hits him full force, when the agony completely engulfs him, this time he doesn't moan. What comes out of his mouth, what emerges from between bloodied lips parched by dehydration and a raging fever, doesn't even come close to resembling a moan.

He utters a long, howling, tormented scream.

* * *

Danny puts down the phone with a sigh, a deeply concerned look on his face. He has just informed the Governor of Steve's disappearance, and has been told he is now officially in charge of both the search for Steve as well as the Five-0 team. It's an obvious and logical decision on the Governor's part, but instinctively he wanted to refuse, wanted to pass-up.

It's too quick, too ... final.

Walking up to the others, he quietly informs them of the Governor's decision. "It's temporary, brah." Chin looks at him. "We're gonna find him, we _have_ to find him." Lou nods. "That's right Jersey. No matter how skilled Steve is, even he is unable to just go up in smoke." Then he quips: "What's more, I really don't want to get used to calling you 'boss'."

Danny throws him a humorless smile.

Kono says nothing, just walks up to him and gives him a hug. She knows how all this is tearing him apart inside, knows how frustrated he is. "_Manaʻo ʻiʻo_, Danny; have faith. We'll find him." She pulls back, looking at him. Danny just nods with a sad little smile on his lips.

Faith ... it's all they have to go on.

* * *

It's sheer agony that forces him back to consciousness.

He can't even begin to try and pinpoint that part of his body which hurts the worst, although his left arm is doing its best vying for first place. Instinctively he knows he has numerous serious, possible life-threatening injuries. Everything hurts, and hurts badly, as if he's been hauled through a giant wringer, breaking every bone in his body.

He's breathing though, no longer slowly choking to death.

_I told you so._

Slowly trying to focus, he realizes his body has shifted from hanging upside down to leaning forward against something hard and rough. He tries to open his eyes, but somehow they're caked shut, the rest of his skin feeling strange as well; as if he's encased in plaster.

Another realization is that he can now partially sense his legs; his right leg feels like it's crushed, wedged between things. His left leg feels strangely weightless, and he comes to the conclusion that it's somehow dangling outside the cabin. They're both on fire, white hot pain shooting through them.

Finally, there's the strange sensation of simultaneously burning up inside while being doused with ice water. He can feel his teeth chatter, yet his brain feels like it's on fire.

_You're running a serious fever there, Steve._

That must be the reason why his mind suddenly burps up a line from an old song, something his mother used to play when he was young. _If the right one don't a-get you, then the left one will._ He remembers his mother singing along with it.

_Still intent on dying, huh? Not by choking but by fever, shock? Pretty fatalistic attitude there._

Mentally, he sighs. It's not being fatalistic; he's being realistic. This is not a situation he will walk away from, can extract himself from. No matter how skilled he is.

_Hate to say it, but you may be right this time._

He mentally smiles. _I know_ he thinks.

Then he blacks out again.

* * *

The call reporting the mud slide blocking the remote road outside the city comes in to the Department of Facility Maintenance a little after eight that morning. They are already swamped by all the reports of flooded streets, plugged drain systems and blocked roads.

The short but intense storm system which passed over the island the previous night has caused many problems, and inspectors and crews are rushing to address the issues one by one.

First they fix the problems on the main roads, the ones interfering with normal traffic flow. With several blocked drainage systems flooding major thoroughfares, as well as a few mudslides along Kalanianaole Highway at the southeast side of the island, their work schedule is fully loaded.

The remote road block will have to wait. 

* * *

Chin and Kono are looking through every incidence report made the previous evening, that night and now that morning. Nowhere do they find any information on Steve or the Silverado. It has got them stumped, this complete absence of any clues to what may have happened.

What frustrates Chin the most is the fact that he can't seem to get a fix on the Silverado's GPS. It's as if the thing doesn't exist anymore. Or has been jammed.

Just as Chin is flicking through some traffic incidents reports again, Kono stops him, frowning. "Hold on, Cuz. Pull up that last file, please." Chin throws her a questioning glance, then calls up the last report again, looking at it with a raised eyebrow. "This is about a flipped truck at the intersection of Mott Smith Drive and Makiki Heights Drive. What about it, Kono?"

Kono stares at it. "Isn't that near Hoalu Place?" Chin calls up a map, then types in the street names. "Yup, Hoalu is a little further down Makiki Heights. Why?" Kono now starts calling up files. "Danny said Steve was going to check up on some last details for the Pahia case ..."

She let's her words trail off, looking through documents. "There!" she beams, sending the file to one of the screens. It's a document belonging to the Pahia case file, an address form. Chin looks at it. "That's the address of Ululani 'Aukai, the maternal aunt of Keola Pahia." He looks at Kono again. "How did you know that?"

Shrugging, Kono looks at the document on the screen. "I did the interview with Mrs. 'Aukai for the Pahia case. The day I interviewed her, I went over to auntie Alamea in the evening." She glances at Chin. "I, ehm ... when auntie asked me about my work day, I told her about Mrs. 'Aukai. She told me she knew her, that she used to go to school with her. That's why I remembered."

She throws Chin an apologetic look.

"Kono ... you _know_ you're not supposed to discuss work details!" Chin frowns at her, then sighs. "However, in this case I'll let it slide." He pulls up the map again, then the incident report. "It was a supply truck for the Spalding House Café, at the Spalding House art museum." He frowns. "Must've been some mess; the intersection was blocked off most of the late afternoon and evening."

Just then Danny walks up to them. He takes a look at the map and incident report. "Just on the off chance, could one of you please find out whether there was something unusual about that incident, please?" Kono nods, then goes to make some phone calls.

Chin and Danny look up as Lou comes walking in. "I just came back from HPD, because there was something I just didn't understand about yesterday's events." They look at him as he grabs himself a mug of coffee, then comes to join them at the PC table. "And what was that?" Danny throws him a questioning look.

Lou first takes a sip, then answers. "How did they know when the arrest was going to happen? How come they knew exactly how to time things?" Danny stares at him, then mentally slaps himself for the oversight. He must have really been upset yesterday to miss something as obvious as that.

"So I posed the question at HPD" Lou continues. "Turns out they had thought of that as well and already ran an inquiry into it. A young dispatcher named Jimmy Ah Hou apparently forwarded the day and time of the arrest to this Maka's cousin, Tony Moi."

Danny's mind switches to overdrive. He processes Lou's information, then looks at the map. There's a strange feeling in his gut, intensifying by the minute. "Chin, what time did you lose contact with the Silverado's GPS?" Chin calls up a file with GPS data. "Last contact with the Silverado was yesterday afternoon, just after four; Steve was driving on Lunalilo Freeway, near Pensacola Street."

The three men stare at the GPS data, the map, and the address form. "Oh shit" says Lou. Danny's voice sounds strangled when he asks Chin a question. "What time did HPD send out the call for general back-up?" Chin calls up the information. "Just before five, which is also about the same time I last talked to Steve."

"I don't like the way things are taking shape" Lou says softly. "Don't like it one bit."

Danny agrees.


	5. Trapped

Nothing is ever truly lost until you stop searching for it.

\- Anonymous -

* * *

5\. TRAPPED

He is surprised when he regains consciousness again. Whenever he blacks out, it feels like the end; the final words signaling the conclusion of a story. No next chapter, no sequel. It surprises him that there's apparently more to come, that this tale continues.

However, he also senses the injuries he's sustained in the crash are seriously starting to compromise any chance of survival, as every time he blacks out, it takes longer to claw his way back to consciousness. His already swollen throat, now unrestricted by the choking seat-belt, has swollen even further to the point where he finds it nearly impossible again to draw in air.

_Try moving your head back a little, get some extra room to breathe._

He tries to follow the advice, slowly shifting his head along the rough surface underneath his cheek. It seems to take forever, forces him to use every bit of will power and energy he has left, but in the end does offer him some extra room to breathe in oxygen. He pants with the effort of it.

_Slow down there, take it easy. You don't want to start hyperventilating._

After several minutes, his breathing calms down to the point where he can start concentrating on other things. His left arm, for example, now hanging down besides his body. The continuous anguish shooting up and down that limb tells him that things are definitely not as they should be. However, he still can't open his eyes, still can't look at it.

_Maybe that's for the better; don't think it's a pretty picture, actually._

From what he remembers seeing just after he crashed, the voice is probably right. Nothing he can do about that, anyway. The same goes for his left leg, still dangling outside the truck cabin. He's pretty sure it's broken, badly at that. And judging from the continuous, crushing pain in his right leg, wedged in a weird angle between his seat and the console, there are some broken bits there as well.

_Well, you did make one hell of a tumble there, Steve._

He does remember falling the first time, the sensation of being pulled down into a deep, seemingly bottomless chasm until suddenly everything exploded with excruciating pain, followed by darkness.

_Not bottomless after all, then._

Apparently. He also vaguely remembers seeing a face, right before his downward journey began. A face staring down at him, right after the first surprised shock of finding himself off the side of the road, hanging sideways in his truck; hurting. A face that was somehow familiar, a face that was ... smiling?

He mentally shakes his head, goes back trying to make an inventory of his injuries. His chest is on fire, and he feels little grating sensations every time he breaths in or out. Broken ribs, no doubt. Which leaves his right arm. Concentrating, he thinks his arm is lying in his lap somehow. He can't be sure, as everything from his shoulder down to his fingers is strangely numb.

_Well, that beats gut-wrenching agony, right?_

It does, but it's also worrisome. The numbness signals something like a serious dislocation, fracture, or something worse, like damaged or severed nerves. But no pain is good, for now. What's not good is the heat coursing through his body, burning out of him. It's not just caused by the sunlight which he feels filtering through on parts of his body, warming him in places.

_That's that fever. And I think it's getting worse._

He thinks so too. His clothes feel wet, sticky; and if he's right, if his sense of time is still somewhat intact, he ventures that he may have been out here all night, maybe even part of a day as well. Wet clothes, cold mountain air on top of being severely injured; that's a bad combination.

Slowly, he feels his mind losing grip on consciousness again, feels himself drifting off.

_Just don't drift off too far, Steve. You might not make it back next time._

He can't make any promises.

* * *

"OK, Mrs. 'Aukai, thank you for your time, and my apologies for disturbing you. As far as we're concerned, the case of your nephew is now closed." Kono gives the elderly woman a friendly nod, then walks back to her car, parked in the drive-way.

Just as she's about to fasten her seat-belt and start the car, there's a tap on the window. "Miss Kalakaua?" She rolls open the window, squinting against the sun. "Did you forget something, Mrs. 'Aukai?" The elderly lady stands there, fidgeting, a nervous look on her face.

"When you say Five-0 closes the case, then there's nothing more you can do for Keola? When he is in jail I mean." Kono stares at the woman, then slowly shakes her head. "No, Mrs. 'Aukai, then there's nothing we can do for your nephew anymore." She sees the indecision in the woman's face, the anxiety in her eyes. "Is there something we can help you with now?"

The woman next to the car looks around her, then seems to make a decision and starts rattling away in a hushed voice. "Yesterday morning my other nephew, my sister's son, Tony, he calls me and tells me I have to call your boss, this McGarrett." Kono feels her insides being filled with ice water. "Tony? Tony _Moi_ ?"

The woman nods, then nervously continues. "He said somebody could make sure Keola would not be bothered in jail, but then I had to do this little favor." She licks her lips. "I had to call your boss and tell him I had remembered important things about Keola; things which would help the case, things which would help my nephew."

Kono just stares at her, then shakes her head, trying to clear the feeling of dread invading it. "You called him?" The woman nods again. "I asked him to come to my house, seeing how I have trouble getting down town. He was really nice, said no problem, he would come visit me."

An ice cold hand now grips Kono's heart, and she hardly dares ask the next question. "What time did you agree on meeting, Mrs. 'Aukai?"

"I asked him to come to my place at four-thirty. That's what Tony told me to say. Four-thirty."

* * *

"Have you been monitoring the police radio?" The man throws his partner a questioning glance. That one nods. "The whole night, as well as all of this morning. Nothing of interest. No calls for an emergency rescue, no frantic codes by HPD or Five-0."

The first man smiles, satisfied. "Good."

* * *

The inspector of the Department of Facility Maintenance frowns as he reaches the trees blocking the remote mountain road. Sighing, he gets out of the pickup and walks towards the pile of debris. Looking up, he can see the wide swath that has been cut into the mountain side, created by falling trees and the stream of water and sludge following in their wake.

Carefully walking through the still wet mud, he eases up to the other side of the road, then glances down over the edge. He frowns. The railing has given way, and there's a wide track running down there as well, but as far as he can tell, no trees have been pulled down on this side of the mountain. Shrugging, he decides that it must have been the powerful stream of debris that has created the damage.

Suddenly his eye catches a flash, as if the sun reflects off a piece of metal. He cranes his neck, but the edge of the road is treacherous, and his downward view is blocked by small trees and other growth. It's probably nothing more than trash thrown down by a lazy local or some drunken youths.

Walking back to the truck, he calls in the exact location of the road block, then arranges for a crew to come clean it up.

* * *

Chin looks up as Kono walks into HQ, a strange look in her eyes. His initial greeting is replaced by a worried frown appearing on his face. "Kono? What's wrong?" The question draws the attention of Lou and Danny, both sitting at the conference table, going through files and facts, comparing data.

"I went to see Mrs. 'Aukai, like Danny told me to, so we'd know if Steve had been in contact with her yesterday." Kono stares at Chin, then at Danny. "At first she denied having seen Steve, was really not forwarding anything relevant. Then when I was about to drive away, she came up to the car. You guys won't believe this."

Lou and Danny have gotten up from their chairs, Danny with an anxious, nervous look on his face. "At this point I'm ready to believe anything, Kono, because there's too many strange things going on." Lou nods in agreement. "Same feeling here, Jersey. Things are not as they seem."

Kono takes a deep breath, then starts talking. Her own disbelief is soon mirrored on the faces of her team mates. When she tells them what time Mrs. 'Aukai asked Steve to come around, Danny lets out a long string of curses. Chin immediately calls up the associated files. Quickly scanning through them, he says: "Definitely doesn't look like a coincidence. Look at this."

They stare at the times Chin has just highlighted, and he lists them in quick succession. "Steve's GPS went off-line just after four; he arrived at Mrs. 'Aukai's address at Hoalu Place some time around four-thirty, then shortly afterwards the truck overturned at the intersection of Mott Smith Drive and Makiki Heights Drive. And the call for back-up from HPD came just before five."

Danny has turned deadly pale, frozen in place, staring at the times on the screen. This has been about Steve all along. But why? What did they want with him?

More importantly, what have they _done_ with him?!

* * *

It is much harder to fight his way back this time, to come up through the darkness which is determined to keep him confined; it sticks to him like a viscous liquid, hangs on to him with countless tendrils. He does not fully emerge into consciousness, doesn't feel how the intensity of the heat pulsating through and off him is on near equal levels with the pain.

It is slowly roasting him from the inside, turning his now semi-conscious brain into an impulse fired mass of incoherent thoughts; reality and fever induced hallucinations are battling for control.

_He is cartwheeling down a mountain, spinning head over heels. Every time he impacts with a solid object, each time a bone snaps, he screams. Still the uncontrollable descent continues. As his body is caught up against a rocky outcrop, causing the bones in his legs to give way, he howls._

His face moves restlessly against the rough bark of the tree as he moans, trapped in the images within his mind. The instinctive twitching of his injured limbs in response to the scenes in his head cause agonizing pain, which further fuels his imagination.

_Get out of there, Steve. It isn't real. Wake up!_

The voice vaguely filters through, creates an anchoring point from which reality manages to overpower the fever induced hallucinations. When he finally fully emerges, becoming aware that this is the Here And Now instead of the Nearly Gone Forever, he finds that sweat running down his brow has seeped into his eyes, moistening them enough so he can open them at a crack.

Blinking, trying to clear the mud still caked to his eyelids, he manages to fully open his left eye. It's completely obscured by a large brown object, the same object his cheek, as well as a large portion of his upper body is resting against. After careful consideration, he comes to the conclusion it's a tree.

_Brilliant deduction, Sherlock. Now how about using the eye you can actually see something with?_

When he opens his right eye, he finds his vision hazy, blurred by the raging fever running through his body as well as the residual muck. Concentrating on focusing, he finds himself staring into space. A sudden sense of vertigo grabs hold of him, almost causing him to lose his grip on consciousness.

_Easy there, super SEAL. Try to get a fix on your bearings._

Readjusting his view, looking down below him, he sees green vegetation and trees sloping away from underneath him. He realizes he is viewing the side of a mountain, somehow suspended above it. Frowning, he tries to analyze the situation, but he can't make heads or tails from it all.

_Doesn't matter. Like you said, it's not like you can walk away from it, right?_

Right. Then a memory pops up, a memory of him reaching for his gun just before blacking out. He carefully tries to shift his head, weary of restricting his oxygen intake. After shifting just the tiniest bit, his left arm pops into view. After staring at it for a few seconds, he simply wishes it hadn't.

_Yeah, that's definitely a mess._

Looking a little further to the right, he can now look down at his lap, sees his right arm is indeed resting across the top of his legs.

To his utter amazement, his right hand still has a death grip on the gun.

* * *

Lou puts down the phone, then walks over to Danny. "Management from that museum cafe finally got back to us about the delivery. Your gut instinct about the truck overturn at the intersection near Hoalu Place was correct. Something's definitely off." Danny rubs his face, for once wishing he wasn't right about something. "How so?"

Looking down at the notes he's taken during the phone conversation, Lou continues. "The regular delivery guy called in sick the day before, said his cousin would handle the delivery. But - get this - instead of the regular morning delivery, this time it would be an afternoon delivery. So, different driver, different day, different delivery time."

Danny gets up, a weary frown on his face, jamming his hands in his pockets. He walks towards the PC table, then looks at the map Chin still has up on one of the screens. "Chin, plot a route from Hoalu Place to Telephone Road." They look at the route appearing on screen.

"The quickest route would be along Makiki Heights Drive, then Tantalus Drive" says Chin. He makes some changes. "With the accident at the intersection, the alternative would be to take Nehoa Street, then Auwaiolimu Street and pick up Tantalus from there. It's about five minutes longer than the regular route." They stare at the map again.

"Except" says Kono, walking in, "they've just started maintenance work on the overpass at Auwaiolimu Street two days ago. It's going to last all week, and traffic is seriously backed up, especially during rush hour when people start going home. I'm sure Steve would've known that and avoided it."

Lou mumbles: "So would our perps, I think." Chin changes the route on the map again. "Then the only other alternative would be to take Round Top Drive and pick up the other end of Tantalus Drive towards Telephone Road; it's just a few minutes longer than the route via Auwaiolimu Street."

They all silently look at this last route Chin has now plotted out. It's a long winding road, with plenty of roadside growth, plenty of opportunities to grab an unsuspecting victim, even one as highly trained as Steve. Steering the Five-0 Commander onto that road was very obviously planned.

Danny swallows the lump in his throat. "It's like they were drive hunting, with Steve being the quarry."

* * *

The maintenance crew's four chainsaws are put to good use cutting up the trees blocking the road. The remaining crew members stack the chunks of wood on the back of the trailer behind the pickup. It's hard work, and they have to be careful not to slip in the still wet mud covering the tarmac.

After an hour-and-a-half they decide to break for lunch.

* * *

A high, whining buzzing sound is invading his semi-consciousness. His fever swamped brain insists it is produced by giant mosquitoes, zooming around the spot where he hangs suspended.

_Come on, Steve; get a grip on reality. Unless you were suddenly transported to Prehistory, you know there aren't bugs that big._

The voice is right. Frowning he manages to focus on the sound, becomes aware of the fact that it seems to be produced by multiple sources. It's a familiar sound, and after several minutes he realizes they're chainsaws. Which means there are people nearby.

_Depends, Steve. How far does sound travel? Is the sound muted, loud?_

He thinks the sound is coming from above and behind him, somewhere further up the mountain. However, he has no way of knowing how far down the mountain he is, whether the people up there can see him. The fact that there has been no rescue means that he's definitely not in plain view.

_Maybe instead of making them see you, you can make them hear you._

He remembers the gun in his hand. Slightly turning his head down again, he glances down at his right arm, his hand holding the P226. But the arm lies there useless, without feeling.

_Concentrate, Steve. See if you can get your hand to work._

Frowning, he focuses on his hand, willing it to move. At first there's no response, as if the connection between brain and hand has indeed been severed. Trying harder, he suddenly manages to slightly shift his arm. He groans out loud as a hot wave of anguish travels from his shoulder to his hand.

_Well, that should mean you can use it, right?_

Trying to slow down the erratic heartbeat the pain has caused, stop himself from gasping for air, he starts concentrating on his hand again. At first there's a barely noticeable twitch in his index finger. Ignoring the now throbbing pain, he wills his fingers to move. And they do.

_Good man! Now let's hope the gun still works._

The voice has a point. The gun is dirty, caked in mud. He knows it will work after being immersed in water - which, after all, is a prerequisite for a SEAL handgun - but is not sure what it will do after having been exposed to mud. But there's another problem.

_Well, of course there would be. Simple is never the name of your game, is it?_

Initiating firing involves a so-called double-action mechanism, which means pulling the trigger will be twice as hard for the first shot. And he really doesn't know if he can muster the strength to do so.

_One way to find out. Just make sure they can hear you._

He listens, having to work hard to direct his mind at the noise he heard. The fever has a strong hold on him now, and involuntary shivers result in waves of pain, clouding his thoughts.

_Focus, Steve. Keep your mind on the mission._

Working hard, he manages to retain his focus on the sound, keeps listening to the buzzing above him. It continues for another fifteen minutes, maybe less; then it suddenly stops. This is his moment. All he needs to do now is manage to squeeze the trigger.

_MOVE it, SEAL boy! It's now or never!_

He concentrates on his hand, moaning from the pain which increases a hundredfold, gritting his teeth to demand it to work, his finger to _pull !_

After what seems like an eternity, during which the whole right side of his upper body feels as if it becomes engulfed in a raging fire, he manages to completely pull back on the trigger.

A shot rings out.

* * *

The Hawaiian man looks up, his eyebrows raised, then turns towards his colleague. "What was that? A gunshot?" His colleague turns towards him. "Sure sounded like it, yeah. Could be a hunter though. They're allowed to go after feral pigs in this area."

He goes back to eating his lunch. The man sitting next to him keeps his head cocked, listening. Then he shrugs, and starts eating as well.

* * *

_Steve, hey Steve!_

He's graying out; the pain, fever and effort of having pulled the trigger are just too much to handle.

_Hey, keep it together. You got to pull the trigger again, make sure they hear you._

Fighting against the blackness which threatens to pull him down again, he glances down at his hand. _Shit._ The recoil of the weapon has moved his hand back, so it's no longer across both his legs. The gun is now aimed at the lower part of his left thigh. If he pulls the trigger he will shoot himself.

_Yeah, and there's this nice big artery running through your leg, called the femoral. You'll bleed out._

True. If he hits his femoral artery, any help will be too late. But if he doesn't pull the trigger, he doesn't think his chances of survival will be any better. The fever and infection which most likely has set in by now will start compromising his system, will start shutting it down. His heart most likely will not be able to cope for long either.

_You're a crazy-assed SEAL, you know that? You're gonna kill yourself !_

It's a risk he's willing to take, just on the off chance that he will miss the artery, and the people up on the mountain will hear the shot. And if luck decides to pass him by, he knows bleeding out will almost certainly ensure a swift and nearly painless passage to the other side.

_Well, it was nice knowing you._

The second shot rings out.


	6. Discovery

This is an End Of The Weekend / Beginning Of The Week special for all of you who are keeping their fingers crossed on whether or not Hawaii 5-0 will be renewed (sadly, I think not), but more importantly for those who have been suffering near-heart attacks resulting from the cliffhanger I left you with in the last chapter. Hopefully this makes up for both.

Ready for another wild ride?

* * *

"At the moment of death, I hope to be surprised."

\- Ivan Illich -

* * *

6\. DISCOVERY

The team is desperately going through all accident and incident reports again, this time focusing solely on the area near Round Top and Tantalus Drive. Kono is calling the island's medical facilities, Lou calls each and every garage in the neighborhood, looking for Steve's Silverado.

It's the same procedure they have been doing over and over, looking for any clues, hoping for any hints that will give them an idea of what happened to Steve.

Nothing.

They leave instructions to contact Five-0 the minute anything relating to Steve or his Silverado pops up, the second an unidentified male roughly matching their Commander's description is brought in to any medical facility.

Danny feels his self-control slip further every second, every minute and every hour that passes by without a sign of Steve. He just can't believe how he has simply disappeared, gone up in smoke. Sitting at his desk, he rams his hands into his eyes, trying to keep the hot tears at bay that are threatening to come pouring out.

This simply can _not_ be happening!

Then, suddenly, out of nowhere, that important detail he felt he had been missing, that important clue he had overlooked, forces its way into his mind, jumping up and down and waving its hands. It's a scene from the drug bust where they failed to apprehend Peter Wright.

_Standing behind a wall, Wright suddenly pops out and aims a gun at Steve. The Five-0 Commander yells "Drop it!" at the same instant Wright squeezes the trigger, lightly grazing Steve's left arm just above the elbow. Steve flinches, but manages to fire off two rapid shots. The first one misses Wright as he ducks down, quick as lightning, but the second one plows a path over his skull._

They watch him tumble back, blood streaming down the sides of his head and face like lava being spewed from a suddenly erupting volcano. The next second their attention needs refocusing as members of Wright's drugs gang intensify their fire, forcing the Five-0 team members to find cover.

When things are all over thirty minutes later, when they move in to recover Wright's body, they find it's gone. All that's left is a pool of blood, drag marks and bloody footprints. It's obvious Wright's body has been removed from the scene, presumably by members of his gang.

They never hear or see him again, until young Maka describes him as being one of the men behind the shoot-out at Telephone Road.

Danny replays the scene over and over in his mind; Wright shooting Steve, then Steve returning fire. And he knows the reason for Steve's disappearance, understands the motivation of the man responsible for the fact that Steve has now been missing for over twenty hours.

Revenge.

* * *

The clean-up crew on Tantalus Drive is almost done. The trees have been reduced to manageable chunks and loaded on the trailer; branches and other small debris has been placed in a second, smaller trailer. They're now cleaning the road of residual mud, using brooms to sweep it off the road, so the tarmac will not become a slippery, potentially deadly track when more rain decides to move in.

One of the men walks up to the crew boss. "I still think you should report those gunshots, boss, even though hunting is allowed in this area." He watches his boss frown. "I mean, what if something bad is going on, you know, and then they find out we failed to report it. Could look bad, boss."

They had all looked up when the second shot rang out, stared at each other. The sound of gunshots wasn't common at all, even within hunting areas. At first the crew boss decided to just leave it be, not looking forward to having to file any additional paper work which might result of his report.

But the reasoning of his crew mate makes sense. It will indeed look bad if something is wrong after all, and they find out he hasn't felt like calling it in. "All right" he sighs, "I'll report it." He grabs his cell phone, then calls the head office.

* * *

There's a strange warm feeling present besides the pain in his left leg. The sensation barely manages to register, as he's floating somewhere between deep unconsciousness and a point just below semi-awareness. The raging fever is now so high, his skin has become hot and dry; sweat no longer makes it to the surface.

_Amazing ! You're still here ! By the way, that warm feeling? That's blood running down your leg._

The voice doesn't even really reach him, reduced to a vague mumbling sound that has a familiar ring to it. Where he's at now, it's of minor importance.

_Steve ! Hey, come on, just try to hang on a little longer. Maybe somebody heard the gunshots._

But he no longer has the strength to actively hang on. He just floats, suspended; drifting along with whatever current or direction fate decides to take him.

* * *

The call from the Department of Facility Maintenance comes through to the switchboard of the Division of Forestry and Wildlife. The operator dutifully registers the facts, then thanks the caller for forwarding the information.

She's just about to close the file, leaving it to be processed by the right person later that afternoon or the next day, when she frowns. Something about the message causes little alarm bells go off in her head. It takes her a few minutes of staring at the screen before she knows what it is.

Her cousin Jimmy had complained to her husband just that very morning that he couldn't go pig hunting on Tantalus, because hunting days were restricted to Wednesdays and Sundays.

Today is Friday.

* * *

"Still nothing on the police radio?" The tall man looks down at the man sitting at the worn-out table, smoking while he's trying to solve a crossword puzzle. There's an old scanner sitting on the table right next to him. The answer comes in the form of a shake of the man's head. "Not a peep."

The man at the table looks up at his boss, looking as deadly pale as ever, absentmindedly worrying his fingers over the deep scar running along the top of his head. "I think it's safe to say that you achieved what you set out to do, boss. McGarrett must be as dead as a doornail by now."

The tall man looks off in the distance for a second, then down at the man again. "Just keep checking that radio. I want to be absolutely sure he has stopped breathing permanently."

* * *

Lou stares at Danny after he's reminded the team of what happened during the Wright bust. "So you're certain Peter Wright is involved." Nodding, Danny nervously runs a hand over his face, then his hair. "Yeah. Like I said, Maka's description really fits that asshole. And the only reason I can think of for Wright to be involved is revenge for that bullet. Which really doesn't bode too well for Steve."

The minute the words leave his mouth, he feels his heart drop another level towards utter despair. If his instinct is correct, if this is all about _'an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth'_ , then they may already be far too late to save Steve. May have already long ago passed the point where they still had the slightest chance of seeing their boss, their friend alive.

When he scrapes his throat, swallows the lump and looks up, he sees the same realization written across the faces of his team mates. "We can't give up hope, though. We can't stop looking." Kono's voice shakes, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Chin walks up to her, wraps his arms around the slender form of his cousin, pulls her into his comforting, strong arms. "Never, Kono. We'll never give up hope, we'll never stop looking." Lou and Danny stare at the two cousins as they comfort each other, then both scrape their throats almost simultaneously.

Lou sighs, crosses his arms, then looks at Danny. "So what's next on the agenda? What else can we do?"

Danny remains silent for a minute, his head down as he thinks. Then he looks up. "Besides tearing up the island from top to bottom, side to side, I think all we have left is trying to find Wright and shake him down for information."

Chin walks towards the PC table. "I'll start looking into the names of known associates from when he was running that drugs network. Who knows what might pop up." Danny nods. It's the only option they have left.

The only chance of finding Steve.

* * *

Detective Hekekia of the HPD has reported to work just fifteen minutes ago, much of last night's sleep shredded by helping his wife take care of their baby daughter, who had experienced a serious bout of pseudo croup. Taking a sip of coffee, he frowns as a folder is placed on the corner of his desk.

He looks up at the young cop standing next to his desk, hand still outstretched. "What's this?" he growls. Nervously, the young man hops from one foot to the other. "They're reports of possible illegal hunting activities on Tantalus Mountain." He adds in an apologetic voice: "Desk Sergeant told me to give it to you." Then he's gone.

Sighing, Hekekia opens the folder, then starts reading through the papers. They're reports regarding several gunshots people heard, filed by locals living on Tantalus Drive, Kalaiopula Place and Forest Ridge Way. The last paper is a report filed by Facility Maintenance with DOFAW, the latter responsible for maintaining wildlife and nature.

There's another paper attached to the DOFAW report. It's an extract of their 'Control Hunt Program Rules and Conditions' regarding hunting feral pigs. Two lines have been highlighted under the section 'Special Conditions HFR Control Hunt'. He reads them, a frown appearing on his face.

_A. Hunting will be allowed on Wednesdays and Sundays only, from sun up to sun down._

_G. No firearms use or baiting is allowed._

That immediately red-flags the incident reports for two reasons. One is that today is Friday; the second one is the fact that guns aren't allowed in the area. He rifles through the papers again, mulling things over in his mind. Then he grabs the phone.

"Yes, hi. This is Detective Hekekia. Can you tell me if there's a chopper in the air?" He listens to the voice at the other end. "What part of Pali Highway?" He frowns, thinks quickly, then makes a split second decision. "OK, look. I'll make sure orders get adjusted by top brass, but I need them to abort the traffic survey and go on over to Tantalus."

The voice at the other end protests, but he cuts it off in mid-sentence. "I'll get the orders changed, and I'll personally stick my neck out on this one, OK? I really need them to do a fly-over of the area between Tantalus Drive and Kalaiopula Place, above Herring Springs. We got reports in of shots fired, and if there's some crazy gunman engaged in illegal hunting, we need to know ASAP."

The voice comes back at him again and he nods, sighing in relief. "Great. If they find anything, make sure it gets patched through to me immediately."

Hekekia hangs up the phone, then starts entering the details of the reports and investigation into the system.

* * *

Chin frowns as the screen indicates a new match has been found based on the filters he installed for reports filed by HPD. He opens it and starts reading. The HPD report relates to possible illegal hunting activities, and is based both on calls from locals and a DOFAW report, which in turn has been filed due to a call from a Facility Maintenance inspector.

When he reads the words _shots fired_ and _Tantalus Road_ he feels his gut clenching up. Another coincidence? The detective doing the follow-up has already sent an HPD helicopter to look for possible illegal hunters. What interests Chin more, though, is the location where the shots were heard.

"Hey guys, I think you want to see this." The rest of the team members quickly walk up to him, looking apprehensive at his urgent words. Danny is unconsciously rubbing his injured arm, which earns him an instinctive slap from Kono. She's been batting at his hand ever since she caught him worrying the injury.

"HPD Detective Hekekia just filed notice that he's started working on a case of suspected illegal hunting. The case is based on several reports of shots fired near Tantalus Drive." Chin looks at Danny, sees the quick glimmer of hope rushing across his features.

Lou looks at the case file. "Could you pull up a map of the area this suspected illegal hunter is at, the location where the shots were heard?" Chin pulls up the map, then pinpoints the addresses from where the reports were made. "Seeing how the reports indicate the shots coming from different directions, Detective Hekekia has established that they must've come from down here."

He indicates the area in question, which lies wedged between two high ridges, a place where the mountain side steeply drops down from Tantalus Road. "The Facility Maintenance inspector who reported the shots to DOFAW said they were coming from directly below them. He and his crew were working to remove a roadblock caused by a mudslide." He marks the spot were the crew was active.

Danny stares at the screen, rubbing his chin, his mind in overdrive. He suddenly makes a decision. "I want to see that spot at Tantalus Road. What time did the mudslide happen?" Chin scans through the report. "Doesn't say; first calls came in because people couldn't use the road this morning."

"Lou, come with me please. Chin, Kono, stay here in case there's news from the HPD chopper." Danny is walking towards the door when Chin calls after him. "Want me to call that crew chief and see if he has more information?" Turning around, Danny nods. "Let me know if anything comes from it."

With that, he and Lou walk out.

* * *

"We've just been pulled off traffic survey" yells the HPD officer above the noise of the rotors to the pilot sitting next to him. "You're supposed to fly over the area below Tantalus drive, above Herring Springs; there's been reports of illegal hunters using firearms."

The pilot nods he understands, then nudges the helicopter away from the highway and over to the right. He passes over Nuuanu Reservoir, then turns and starts heading south. Within minutes they fly over Tantalus Drive. Both men crane their necks to see outside. "Hey, bank to the left; I thought I saw something."

The pilot makes a wide turn to the right and then sharply banks to the left. They both see it at the same time; the flash that comes from the trees below. "What the fuck! Can you go in closer?" Carefully the pilot hovers closer to the trees, then lowers the chopper so they can get a better look.

Both men feel shock course through their bodies as they view the gruesome scene in front of them. Finally the HPD officer manages to collect his wits. "Hang on a sec, I'm getting out the binoculars." He zooms in on the trees in front of them, remains silent for a minute, then turns to the pilot.

"I think I just found the source of those shots. I'm calling it in; they need to get Rescue-1 out here." The pilot nods, then carefully banks the chopper to the left before heading back to base.

* * *

His subconsciousness vaguely registers the sound of the helicopter. It's a distinct *whoop* *whoop* that causes his feverish brain to throw up shadowy, hazy images of men sitting next to him in a confined space, of looking up and watching a dark shadow descent from the sky.

_Those are memories, Steve. It means you're still alive, although barely I think._

The sound continues for a while, then it starts to fade away.

So does he.

* * *

It takes Danny much less than the normal twenty minutes to reach Tantalus Drive. Even with the detour he has to make to avoid the maintenance work at the Auwaiolimu Street overpass, he drives like the devil possessed. Lou is hanging on for dear life, sucking in his breath whenever another car comes dangerously close.

"Jersey, come on. Please don't wipe us out before we can even have a look at the place, OK?" Danny doesn't answer, but does slow down just a little. In the end, he ignores the Telephone Road turn-off and continues on Tantalus Drive, until they reach the spot where the clean-up crew has been working.

He manages to park the Camaro off to the side, nudging it onto the drive-way which is still blocked by trees. Lou has to worm his way out the door, his big frame barely able to get through the gap. "Next time, park the other way 'round, please. I think you'd fit through there a little bit easier."

Standing close to the car, they look up at the wide path running down the mountain, cleared of all vegetation. "That must've been some mudslide" mumbles Lou. He glances at the trees still blocking the driveway next to the car. "The owner isn't going to be happy that they left those there."

Craning his neck to follow the path all the way up, Danny doesn't even glance over. "House has been abandoned for years; nobody there to complain about not being able to get out to do groceries." He turns around, looking at the spot where the railing has been busted. He walks over, then freezes.

"Lou ..." The near-terror with which Danny says his name causes Lou to move over in two long strides. His gaze follows Danny's outstretched finger, then shock causes him to draw in his breath. Barely visible beneath the mud still caked to the railing, there are paint marks on the metal. Blue paint marks, matching the color of Steve's Silverado.

Lou bends down, picking up a small twig, and starts chipping away at the dried mud. The more he removes, the more paint becomes visible. Danny is working on the other end of the broken railing.

"There's paint here as well. Oh Jesus Christ, Lou!" His voice shakes, filled with foreboding. "They ran him off the fucking road!"

Danny steps over the railing, nearly loses his footing, then grabs hold of a small tree as he moves further down. He leans over as far as he dares, then starts yelling. "Steve! Steve! Can you hear us?!" His desperate calls remain unanswered. He frantically scans the area beneath him, sees the wide swath cut through the vegetation.

"Steve! We're here! Can you hear us? STEVE!"

His breath hitches in his chest, and he's unaware of the tears coursing down his face. Steve is down there, of that he's absolutely certain. But he doesn't know how to get there, doesn't know how badly hurt he is. Doesn't know if he's even still alive.

Just then his phone starts ringing, and he climbs back up to the road. Looking at the display he sees it's Chin. "Danny, HPD just put out a request for Rescue-1 to go to Tantalus Drive. The police chopper has spotted a wreck just below where you and Lou are at."

The ground suddenly liquefies beneath his feet, causing him to sway dangerously on his feet. He vaguely registers Lou grabbing his arm, steadying him so he doesn't fall down. "Did they ... did they see anybody?" Chin remains quiet for what seems like an eternity.

"Yeah Danny. They saw a body inside the wreck; the description matches Steve."

* * *

It has taken the yellow Fire Department Rescue-1 helicopter less than fifteen minutes to reach the location indicated by HPD. It hovers above what's left of the Silverado, a blue metallic heap streaked with brown smudges of mud.

The SAR-officer looking out the window reports their initial findings back to base. "OK, from what I can tell from here it's going to be an extremely dangerous and complicated extraction."

A voice comes back. "Give me a SITREP; what exactly do you see?" The SAR-officer moves to the open door of the helicopter and hangs out, overlooking the scene below him, talking into his helmet's microphone.

"Looks like the wreck got caught half-way up between two trees. There's a body partially hanging out of the side; door looks to be gone."

It's quiet for a second, then the voice comes back. "Is he moving?" The SAR-officer shakes his head. "No, Sir." "Any signs of life at all?" "Negative, Sir. All I can see is a lot of blood."

The moment of silence is longer now, then the voice comes back again, quieter this time. "In your opinion, are we dealing with a rescue or a recovery?" The SAR-officer's answer is short, down to business.

"Looks like the latter, Sir. "

* * *

"They've directed both an HPD chopper and the Fire Brigade's Rescue-1 to Tantalus Drive, boss." The tall man snaps up his head at the words. "They found him?" He's answered by a nod. "Damn!" Angrily, he gets up, starts pacing the room, then stops in his tracks at the next words.

"I wouldn't worry if I were you, boss." He turns around, looks at the grinning face. "Why not?" The grin becomes wider, nastier. "Because Rescue-1 just changed their mission status from rescue to recovery."

A slow smile creeps up around the lips of the tall man, then he nods.

"Good. That's the end of McGarrett then."

* * *

Chin stares at the status change just entered by Rescue-1, his mind still reeling from listening in on the conversation he has been patched into. He knows he needs to report it to Danny, anxiously waiting up on Tantalus Drive ever since the special Search and Rescue helicopter has arrived at the scene.

His finger hovers over the button of the cell phone, then presses down.

* * *

"Chin, tell me!" Danny sounds near-panicking, his voice wrought with fear, terror; anticipating yet not wanting to hear any bad news regarding Steve. Chin's words shock him to the core. _Recovery_. The SAR-team no longer believes it is a rescue mission, no longer believes Steve is alive.

He stands there, staring at the black tarmac beneath him, his body still but his mind howling inside.

Steve is _dead_ !

The next minute he shakes his head, refusing to accept what he has just heard. Chin told him the HPD officers saw a gun in Steve's hand, so he _must_ have still been alive at the time people heard those shots.

And the man he knows, that stubborn, irritating, social-graces-lacking ninja SEAL whom he hates, loves, can't stand and never wants to lose, all at the same time; that man is just too fucking _stubborn_ to just lie down and die.

He turns to Lou, now staring down at a set of black tire marks running from underneath the Camaro, aimed straight at the railing. Lou glances towards Danny, then looks back down at the tracks. "They were waiting for him here, waiting for him to run into their trap."

Danny looks down, and suddenly unadulterated rage starts coursing through his body. If they manage to find Wright, he won't be responsible for what he'll do to him, doesn't know if he will be able to keep himself from tearing the man limb from limb.

Swallowing, he looks at Lou. "Last week, you said Samantha met this group of young guys. What was it they did again?" Lou stares at him, frowning. "They are canyoneers." Suddenly he understands what Danny wants, the plan his team mate has come up with.

Getting out his phone, he calls his daughter.

* * *

"Base to Rescue-1 ... a request has been put in by both Five-0 and the Governor himself. You're to return to base and refuel, then head back out to Tantalus."

The SAR-officer stares at the pilot, who lifts his eyebrows. "Rescue-1 to Base ... are we correct in understanding the mission is to be continued?"

The voice coming back from base is clear.

"Affirmative, Rescue-1. This is still going to be a rescue mission. Five-0 has engaged the help of some canyoneers. They will be repelling down the mountain side and assist with the extraction of Five-0's Commander."

The two men in the chopper's cockpit look at each other, then shrug. "Mission status confirmed, Base. Heading back now to refuel."

The helicopter banks, then flies off.

* * *

_Steve! Hey Steve!_

There's no reaction from the body inside the wreck; it remains completely still. The blood running down the leg hanging outside the car has slowed down to a trickle, rendering his blood pressure to a dangerously low level.

_Come on, super SEAL. Remember, the only easy day was yesterday._

The voice barely reaches the deep unconscious state he's in; it's a low murmur, a gentle background noise that laps over him as he continues to drift away, further and further.

_They're calling you, from up there. They found you._

Somehow the words _calling_ and _found you_ manage to penetrate, clearly standing out from the rest of the unintelligible, murmured sounds.

_That's right; they're here. Imagine their disappointment if you turn out to be dead._

A small part of his brain starts sending impulses to his ears, starts processing sounds. It registers another voice, similar to the one in his head. _Danny ?_ The thought penetrates his mind like lightning through the darkness.

_Yes, Danny. He's been calling you. He sounds pretty desperate, Steve._

A hazy image of his blond partner, blue eyes wide with worry and anxiety, suddenly pops up. It somehow manages to push him upwards towards semi-consciousness.

_Attaboy ! You have to hang on for him, for the others. They're doing their best, Steve._

He feebly starts to struggle against the current that drags him further away, further down into nothingness. It is the hardest struggle yet, the longest distance he has to cover to make it back to something resembling consciousness.

When he finally becomes aware of the sun shining down on him, of his face resting against the bark of the tree, the pain and heat of the fever hardly register anymore. His mind is now the only thing that keeps him aware, that resists the steady descent towards a place from where he won't return.

Slowly, he becomes aware of a sound; a steady, continuous noise.

* * *

Tantalus Drive has now been closed off in both direction. Several HPD squad cars have transported a group of six young man to the location where Danny and Lou are waiting anxiously, desperate for help to reach Steve. All it took was one call from Lou's daughter Samantha to activate them.

One of the men, a little older than the others, is carrying a large back-pack. When he introduces himself to Danny, it's in a curt, direct manner. "I'm Marc Lejeune, Sir. I'm a SARC or Special Amphibious Reconnaissance Corpsman, temporarily based at Hickam Base. I go out with these guys in my spare time to learn some extra skills."

Danny stares at him, shakes his head, not understanding. Lejeune looks at the nervous man standing there, has been told how close he is to the Five-0 Commander who's trapped below in what's left of his pickup. He continues in a more gentle tone. "I'm trained in all types of medical emergencies, Sir. I'll hopefully be able to give the Commander first aid when we reach him."

Nodding that he understands now, Danny watches the men prepare themselves for the dangerous descent. He's numb, his emotions shot to hell, wholly frustrated by the fact that he can't _do_ anything, can't actively _help_ in trying to save Steve. If Steve can still be saved ...

The men carry an array of nylon ropes, pulleys, belay and camming devices; one of them carries a portable small torch cutter used for tactical operations, and another one of them has a long, steel line slung over his shoulder. The SARC has his medical supplies in a large backpack.

Danny looks on as they attach security lines to parts of the railing and the trees on the side of the road, strap themselves into harnesses, and then disappear over the side, one by one.

* * *

Rescue-1 is hovering close to the location of the wrecked Silverado, monitoring the progress of the men they see slowly rappelling down. It is a very dangerous descent, with little foothold, resulting from both the car and the stream of sludge destroying everything in their path.

From time to time one of the men slips, and the men in the helicopter hold their breath until they see him regain his footing. Slowly but surely they're closing in on the location where they can see the car, see the body hanging from the driver's side.

They're making steady process.

* * *

He has drifted off again, losing his tenuous hold on consciousness.

_Steve, can you hear it? There's a helicopter here._

He frowns as the continuous sound penetrates the darkness, reaches down to him. It tries to urge him towards semi-consciousness again, but it's much easier to remain where he's at.

_Hey, you said you'd hold on, remember? Come on, super SEAL, just a little longer. For Danny._

The sudden thought of his partner manages to give him the little extra push he needs to almost fully emerge into wakefulness. Holding on is very difficult, is wearing him out; but he needs to hang on. Hang on for Danny.

_That's right. You know you can do it._

Focusing on the sound of the helicopter, he groans as he manages to shift his head so he's looking up. His blurred vision only makes him see hazy images. Trying harder, he finally sees the yellow chopper hovering just above him.

They've come for him.

* * *

The SAR-officer sitting next to the pilot in Rescue-1 sucks in his breath. "Did he just fucking _move_?!" He looks over at his colleague who glances back at him with raised eyebrows, then nods. They both caught the moment the man in the wreck seemed to slowly pull his head back, ever so slightly, almost as if he was trying to look at the chopper.

He contacts Base. "Base, this is Rescue-1. We just saw movement in the wreck." The voice coming back at them sounds surprised. "Are you confirming that the Commander is still alive, Rescue-1?" The SAR-officer is silent for a moment, then reports back.

"Base, we are indeed confirming that it looks as if the Commander is still alive."

* * *

As soon as Chin's shaky voice relays the news from Rescue-1, Danny loses control of his legs. He plunks down heavily on the road, rests his head on his knees, throws his arms over his head and starts sobbing quietly. Lou hunkers down next to him, tears in his own eyes.

"It's OK, Danny. It's all right. It's been a rough ride." Danny continues to sob, then suddenly stops as a voice comes over the hand-held transceiver. He listens, his head up, barely breathing..

"We've reached the wreck. We'll secure it first, then Noa will use the torch to try to gain access to the vehicle so the Commander can be reached, and Marc can assess his condition."

Wiping his eyes and nose on his shirt sleeve, Danny reaches over to the HT and pushes the PTT-button. "Got it. Please update us as soon as possible. And be careful." He doesn't know whether the last plea is for the safety of the men, or that of Steve.

He leans back against the Camaro, his hand absentmindedly wiping away the remnants of his tears, and waits.

* * *

A new strange sound tries to gain access to his mind; it continues for an undetermined amount of time, then is replaced by a strange tearing, screeching noise which causes him to slightly move inside the wreck. He lightly frowns, despite being unconscious.

Then there are hands roaming over his body. He first doesn't register them, having submerged into the darkness again, the effort of staying conscious just too much. When the hands do things to his body, painful things, he shoots towards semi-consciousness again, softly moaning.

"Easy does it, Commander. I need to find out the extent of your injuries."

He doesn't recognize the gently speaking voice which partially filters through, the man who is submerging him in agony with every move he makes. The hands start manipulating his throat, his chest, then his right shoulder. He moans again.

Suddenly he feels a hand covering his own right hand, feels it gently undoing his fingers still clenched around his gun. He instinctively tightens up, refusing to give up his only means to draw attention to himself.

"Commander, I need you to try and relax. You don't need the gun anymore. People heard you. And we don't want you to shoot yourself again, or somebody else."

Focusing on the words, he tries to understand them. One part of his fever riddled brain refuses to give in, but another part understands the logic behind the words. He wills himself to relax, feels the gun being taken from his hand.

"Commander, I'm going to perform a so-called cricothyrotomy on you, which means I'm going to cut a small hole in your throat and then provide you with an airway. It seems you have a badly swollen or crushed larynx, and we need to get sufficient oxygen into you."

The continuous talking and painful manipulation of his body prevent him from slipping away again. He flinches slightly as something stings his throat, followed by a strange sensation. After several minutes, he suddenly finds he can breathe easier, although the sensation still feels off somehow.

"Sorry Commander, but I need to make sure you're neck is supported. Just try and keep breathing for me, OK? I'm also going to administer fluids to you, because you appear to have severe crush injuries."

The pain in his throat when something stiff is placed around his neck engulfs him, and the sting of the needle is a barely felt sensation as he starts drifting off again. The voice talking to him becomes more urgent, but also softer. Finally, it dies away.

He has blacked out again.

* * *

The voice of Marc Lejeune suddenly comes to Danny and Lou over the HT. "The Commander is alive, although barely. I've established an airway and set up a drip. We now need to try and move to the other side of the wreck. From what I can tell so far, he's got multiple, severe injuries."

Danny swallows at the news, unwelcome but not unexpected. Considering the distance Steve has fallen, the fact that after he had been forced off the road he was most likely exposed to a powerful mudslide as well, makes it nothing short of a miracle that he has survived so far.

So far ...

He leans back against the Camaro again, waiting for further news, keeping his fingers crossed that when Steve is pulled out, he will still be alive.

* * *

The men in Rescue-1 are in awe of the agility of the acrobatic youths clinging to the mountain side below them. They watch them secure the wreck to the trees with both a steel line and ropes, making sure it won't shift or fall. Then one of the men sets to work with a cutting torch, removing the passenger door to gain access.

After that, one of them enters the wreck, and they can see him working on the Commander. At a certain point the SAR-officer sitting next to the pilot hisses. "He just performed an emergency cric on him; guess he has a compromised airway."

Then they watch in amazement as two of the men crawl over the roof of the wreck, securing several lines between the trees. They attach their harnesses to them, then one of them starts working on the Commander again.

"I'm telling you, if anybody will manage to get him out, these guys can." The pilot nods, then the two men continue to watch the proceedings near the wreck.

* * *

Marc Lejeune finds it hard to find a stable foothold, standing on one of the ropes strung between the trees. The left side of the Commander's upper body is leaning against a tree, while his left leg and arm dangle outside the wreck. He is basically only held in place by the seat-belts and his right leg, still wedged underneath the dashboard.

He hisses between his teeth when he sees the injuries on the left side of the man's body. The lower left arm looks like it has been split right down the middle, exposing bone, tendons and muscle. It is a clean cut, as if made by a very sharp object.

The lower left leg has a compound fracture, the bone sticking through the material of his pants. He also has a gunshot wound right above his knee, through the upper part of the leg. It's a miracle the femoral artery hasn't been hit, but he can see it has bled profusely.

He carefully takes off his backpack, then secures it to one of the lines. Next, he starts working on the injuries; bandaging the gunshot wound, using SAM splints to stabilize the fractured leg, then packing and bandaging the arm.

In the meantime he tries to keep an eye on the Commander's breathing, which miraculously seems to remain stable, although very slow. After he's finished, he puts the backpack back on, then carefully makes his way back over the roof to the other side of the car again.

* * *

The pain has seeped through into the darkness surrounding him, the manipulation of his left leg and arm causing such agony that it relentlessly draws him back to semi-consciousness. When he feels his body being moved forward and out of the seat, he moans.

"I'm sorry Commander, I know it hurts. But I have to put this KED brace on, so we prevent additional injuries when we get you out of here."

The words don't make any real sense, but the voice is soothing, telling him that he is being looked after. He is almost drifting away again when the straps of the brace are tightened, and he groans out loud.

"All right, all done. Now we need to try and get your leg out from underneath the dashboard. We'll try to be as gentle as possible."

He hears the words fade away, and he slowly drifts off again.

* * *

Marc quickly gets out of the wreck, and Noa enters with the cutting torch. Working quickly but with care, he starts dismantling the steering wheel, the console and the dashboard, piece by piece.

Just before he cuts through the last piece, he secures several carabiners to the KED brace, then attaches them to a rope which he wraps and secures around the door frame. Then he cuts through the last piece.

Marc and Noa exchange positions again, Marc now checking out the Commander's right leg. He can feel multiple fractures, but he's unable to do more then splinting both upper and lower leg, trying to stabilize them.

Then comes the hardest part, a question that still needs resolving. How will they get the Commander out to the SAR helicopter?

* * *

Danny listens to the updates from the men working below. He can't wrap his mind around the injuries Steve has sustained, the fact that despite all of those, he is still alive. "Stubborn ninja SEAL" he mumbles, tears in his eyes again.

Then he jerks upright, listening to the last words on the HT.

"You're gonna do _WHAT ?!_"

* * *

The two men in the SAR helicopter look at each other, stunned by the plan which has just been forwarded by the team on the mountain side and relayed to Base.

"They're crazy!" The pilot looks at his colleague, eyebrows raised. "That won't work ... will it?"

The SAR-officer mulls things over in his mind, thinking and rethinking the audacious plan. His mouth has a little smile on it, as he realizes only the very young will think of such an option, not fazed by risks or dangers.

"Actually, I think they might be able to pull it off. And it's probably the only way to get him off the mountain."

* * *

The men on the mountain watch as the SAR helicopter lowers the small basket used for transporting casualties. It doesn't even come near enough for them to grab it or try to catch it with rope, let alone place the Commander in it.

Marc turns towards Kai, a worried look on his face. "Are you sure you can do it?" Kai nods, a grin on his face. "Hell yes. I've seen Rambo do it, and he was nowhere near as good a climber as I am." Noa just stares at Kai, then says dryly: "You know Stallone broke a few ribs doing that stunt, right? That howl of pain? That was for real."

They watch as Kai starts climbing up one of the trees supporting the wreck, keeping his line free from getting caught. The tree is leaning over, sticking out nearly horizontally from the side of the mountain. The young man slowly makes his way to the end of the tree, hanging on to the branches.

"If this goes wrong, will we be able to keep him from slamming into the mountain side?" Marc looks at Noa, who follows the progress of his friend. "No, I don't think so." He turns towards Marc, smiling. "But we don't call Kai 'the flying squirrel' for nothing, you know. You should see the gorges he has leapt over. He'll be OK."

When Kai has reached the end of the tree, has gone as far as he can go, he looks back one more time to make sure his line hasn't snagged on any branches. He looks down at his friends, holding the slack line, and gives them a thumbs up.

Then he looks over to the SAR helicopter and signals them to maneuver the basket as close as possible. When the chopper is hanging motionless, the basket almost still, he leaps from the top of the tree.

For one dizzying instant Marc thinks he won't make it, has misjudged the distance. Then Kai lands in the basket, his aim spot on. As he turns around, Marc can see a big grin on the young man's face, again giving a thumbs up to signal he's OK.

Two of the other young men now slowly start pulling in the basket, bringing it closer, the line attached to the helicopter at a crazy angle. When they can grab hold of the basket, they secure it to the lines attached to the two trees holding the wreck.

The basket is now flush with the wreck, situated just below the Commander. Marc gets inside the wreck again to reposition the Commander. It's time to get him out.

* * *

"Rescue-1 to Base ... that crazy kid pulled it off. They've got the basket near the wreck now." The voice coming back sounds dumbfounded. "We should offer him a job with SAR; sounds like we could use him."

The SAR-officer grins, then moves to the open door and looks down. "Base, I think they're getting ready to extract the Commander."

"OK, keep us posted."

* * *

Gently, Marc positions the Commander's right leg until that, too, hangs outside the wreck. As the Commander lets out an audible moan, he tries to comfort him, even though he knows he probably won't hear him.

"Just hang on a while longer, Commander. We're gonna get you out."

He hangs on to the body, preventing it from slipping head first from the wreck. Kai is dangling outside near the basket, and is now slipping a full-body climbing harness over the legs of the man now only retained by the seat-belts.

The most dangerous part is when they have to release the seat-belts in order to slip the harness behind him. Kai climbs up and physically positions himself against the Commander's body; his hands on the door styles, one foot between his legs on the lower part of the door frame, the other leg planted against the tree in front of his upper body, literally preventing him from falling out.

At his nod, Marc quickly cuts through the seat-belts, then clicks the harness around his upper body, fastening it securely across his chest. Next he attaches the two ropes which are being held by two of their team members standing on the roof of the car.

Then, slowly but surely, they ease the Commander's body all the way out of the wreck, pulling him straight. Kai swings to the front of the car and detaches the rope with which the basket is secured to the wreck, lowering it.

Marc moves behind the Commander, out of the wreck, and pulls up the other end of the basket so it hangs completely flush with the body. He can hear him moan softly but for now considers that to be a good sign, a sign he's still alive.

He gently pushes the body in the still vertical basket, then secures it with the basket's straps. Then he detaches the ropes connected to the Commander's body harness. "I'm going along with him, so I can check his airway and IV on the way up."

Watching the others nod, he first secures himself to the attachment point of the basket, then releases his safety rope, effectively cutting him loose from the mountain. The two men on the roof now lower the head end of the basket, until it's completely horizontal.

It seems to take forever before the rope used to pull the basket towards the mountain is let out again, so the basket hangs straight beneath the chopper. Marc bends down and unclips the rope, checks the Commander's airway and IV, then looks up as they're winched towards the chopper.

The SAR-officer steadies the basket as it hangs besides the chopper, offering Marc the opportunity to step inside. Together they gently pull the basket inside, then close the door.

When the SAR-officer sees the extend of the Commander's injuries, he shakes his head. "I can count the times I had a body in here looking like this, and that still had a heartbeat, on one hand." He turns around to the pilot, signals that everybody is safe inside.

"Queens Medical, and make it count. This man doesn't have much time to waste."

* * *

Danny closes his eyes when he hears Steve has been safely loaded onto the chopper. He feels Lou's hand gripping his shoulder. "They've got him, Jersey; they've got him." Danny nods, eyes moist, throat thick with emotion. "I gotta go to Queens, Lou. I gotta be there when Steve ..."

Lou nods, understanding. "Of course, Jersey. We're all going, Chin and Kono will meet us there." Then he holds out his hand, giving Danny a stern look.

"This time, however, I'm driving."

Danny just nods.

* * *

Across town, Peter Wright howls in frustration as he smashes the police scanner against he wall. His whole plan, his plot for _revenge_, has come undone. He sneers, then utters a maniacal laugh.

"I'm not done with you, McGarrett, not done by a long shot."


	7. Terror

"As soon as there is life, there is danger."

\- Ralph Waldo Emerson -

* * *

7\. TERROR

The fifteen minute drive to Queens Medical takes fourteen minutes too long as far as Danny is concerned. He nearly falls from the passenger door as Lou pulls up, stumbles inside and runs to the Emergency Department.

"McGarrett, they just flew him in" he manages to gasp to one of the nurses. "I need to know ... find out, how he is." She holds up a hand. "Hang on, let me check, OK?" Danny finds a wall to hold him up, to ground him, stop the sensation of free-falling ever since they found Steve.

Lou finds him like that, pale, eyes glued to the door behind which the nurse disappeared. "How is he?" ask Lou, and Danny shakes his head. "They haven't told me anything yet, still waiting for ..."

The nurse re-appears through the door, a doctor in her wake, looking distracted. Danny's eyes immediately zero in on the blood covered blue gloves. _Steve's blood_ he knows. "Five-0?" He looks at Danny and Lou, and they both nod.

"We're still trying to stabilize him, so we can get him into surgery." He looks over his shoulder, then back at Danny and Lou. "I need to get back in there, it's all hands on deck." As he's moving towards the doors again, he turns around for a moment, throwing them a look which causes Danny's heart to stutter.

"I know this is not what you want to hear, but I'm afraid you'll have to seriously consider the fact that we won't be able to save him. The combination of injuries, blood loss, fever, shock and other complications, as well as the complicated rescue mission ... I'd be very surprised if he made it."

He disappears through the doors, taking Danny's sanity with him.

* * *

They're still in shock when Chin and Kono come running in. "How is he, brah?" Chin asks as he places a hand on Danny's neck. "Danny?" Two glazed blue eyes slowly come up to meet Chin's, looking as if they're begging to be taken out of this reality, a reality in which he's been told Steve will likely die.

"They ..." he swallows, tries to lubricate a throat which feels raw with emotion. "They told us he probably won't make it. Injuries, shock ... doc doesn't think they'll be able to save him." Chin's eyes grow wide as the news hits him full force. "Oh Danny ... oh shit, brah."

Kono slumps down in one of the seats, staring at the wall across from her. Lou places a hand on her shoulder and she slowly lets herself sink into the comforting arm pulling her into his big chest. "Can't be true" she says, listlessly. "The Boss, he's just too _pa'akikî_, too tough, too stubborn to die!"

They sit for hours, unaware of what goes on around them, silently holding on to each other within the little bubble that is their world now, their minds focused on the only thing that matters: Steve.

Finally, the doors open and the same doctor that talked to Danny before comes out, his face hard-lined with exhaustion, mouth grim. He's had the foresight to remove his blood spattered OR scrubs before walking out to talk to McGarrett's team.

They spring up from their chairs, four pair of eyes demanding information, filled with both hope and the anticipation of bad news. Danny just barely manages to prevent himself from grabbing the doctor by the front of his shirt, wanting to shake the information out of him, desperate to know.

"He's still alive, and that in itself is a miracle." The doctor massages his temples, exhausted by the bone-weary hours of intense struggle to save this patient's life. "We had to fight every minute of the time we were in the OR to keep him from slipping away; he coded twice."

A small frown appears on his brow. "Just couldn't believe he even came back." He doesn't tell them that, after the second cardiac arrest, the OR team had agreed on not performing CPR if he coded a third time; the man's system was just too compromised.

He looks at the four people standing in front of him, sighs. "The news still is not good, I'm afraid. We have no idea how he managed to hold on for so long, how he still had a pulse when brought in, how he survived what we had to do in the OR."

He watches the faces in front of him crumble, what little hope they have die in their eyes. "I won't even begin to describe his injuries; they're just massive. And right now, the point is moot anyway." He draws a breath, steeling himself for what he has to say next.

"We simply can't tell you if he'll live. I wish I could tell you more, but I can't. We just don't know."

Danny turns, sinks down in one of the chairs along the wall, his knees no longer able to carry the burden of not just his body, but his guilt, his fear, his _terror_ of still being able to lose Steve. He runs a shaky hand over his face, closing his eyes, vaguely hearing the doctor's next words.

"On top of the Commander's extensive injuries, the fact that it took so long before he was found gave infection a chance to spread through his system. He has a very high fever which has caused convulsions, further weakening a system already severely compromised by being wet, by being exposed to the night air, by being in shock for so long."

_That's right_, thinks Danny._ Put the boot in by telling us that we took too long to find him. Tell us again how we failed him._ He utters a shaky sigh, then looks up at the doctor. "How long before ... before you know, before you are certain he'll pull through?"

The doctor shakes his head. "That completely depends on what other complications the Commander may suffer from. New infections, complications, his breathing ... like I said, we're completely in the dark here."

Danny shakes his head, holds up a hand. "Sorry, please ... I don't want to hear all the possible negative scenarios; there's too many of those running around my head already. I don't want to hear about death. I want to know at which point you can be certain that he'll _live_, at what moment we can stop being scared and start having some faith that he'll be OK."

The doctor seems to relent, aware that his message of doom has hit a hard and fast home run, and now is the time to offer whatever little sliver of hope there might be."Basically, as soon as the Commander is able to breathe on his own and his fever is down. When he's responsive, alert. And that may take days, weeks ..."

He holds up his hands, powerless to offer them more than this, powerless to stop his own mind from thinking that such a moment will most likely never arrive.

Danny nods, looks at the others, sees their faces slack with shock, their eyes wide open as if the words of the doctor have materialized and strut their horror in front of them. He shakes his head, looks at the doctor again. "Can we ... is it OK if we see him?"

He hates the look of compassion he gets, instinctively knows it's a look reserved for family of those patients that will most likely never leave the hospital on their own power. It further crumbles what little hope he has.

"Yes, you can see him. He's being settled in at the ICU, so give them a little time to finish doing that." The doctor sighs. "I'll tell the nurses you do not need to adhere to visiting hours. Make sure you don't all come at once, but you can come in whenever you like, until ..." He leaves the words unspoken.

_Until he dies, _Danny's mind finishes for him.

* * *

They've been steering clear of the tall man, their boss, for the last few hours. He's been throwing stuff at them, at the wall; screaming his head off in unrelenting fury. Peter Wright is filled with rage, infuriated by the fact that his carefully concocted plan to exact revenge on Five-0's Commander has been thwarted.

And not even by Five-0 itself; oh no, by a bunch of _kids_! Fucking monkeys on a rope, who have climbed down and gotten McGarrett out of the wreck which was plastered all over the mountain side.

He remembers the moment of anticipation, that intense moment of satisfaction when their car slammed into the side of McGarrett's truck as he slowed down for the next corner. A crazy giggle filled with glee had escaped his mouth as the Silverado had crashed through the roadside barrier, disappearing from sight.

When he got out and stood there, looking down, he had stared into the face of a man wholly surprised by the fact that one minute he was on the road, and the next he was hanging next to it. A man obviously already injured by that first impact, judging by the painfully contorted face as he was wedged between deployed airbags.

The truck's downward movement had initially been halted by a web of interlocking small trees, brushes and other plants. Smiling, he had watched the vegetation give way to the weight of the truck and had seen it slipping down the side of the mountain, faster and faster, until it crashed somewhere below.

It had filled him with a sense of completion, of satisfaction; the knowledge of his tormentor now dead, or at least dying, a healing ointment for the physical and mental wound inflicted by him.

Until he got the news that he wasn't dead; had in fact been saved.

A little smile suddenly appears. Peter Wright has decided that he will have his revenge, no matter what the consequences, no matter what the cost. And he'll start with those damn kids that have screwed up his plans.

Yeah, those brats will be the first to pay.

* * *

As soon as the herd of nurses and doctors is gone, Danny slips through the door of the ICU unit they've placed Steve in. The sight which greets him makes him stumble back against the wall, causes him to slide down until his butt hits the floor. He sits there, trying to take it all in.

Steve is hooked up to almost every machine in the room, all of them beeping, hissing or producing some other sound. There's an IV running to his hand, another one hooked up to a line going into his chest. Then there's a tube running out of his chest to a small box on the ground, and a catheter.

They have a sheet draped over him, which seems to be resting on some kind of frame over his legs, preventing the cloth from touching his body. Suddenly Danny notices that Steve's is being ventilated through his throat; there's no tube running from his mouth.

He scrambles up then, wills his shaky legs to walk towards the bed. Coming closer he can see angry dark bruises on Steve's jaw and chin, the area below it purplish and very swollen; he realizes then that they may not have been able to intubate him normally. Shuddering, he thinks _They cut his throat!_

Danny's eyes travel down to the surgical bandage draped around Steve's right shoulder, then move to his left arm. He sucks in his breath. There is what seems to b a huge gap in Steve's left arm, running from his wrist to his elbow, and it seems to be stuffed with gauze.

Then Danny finally looks at Steve's face, and his heart tries to disappear down into his gut. The blush from the fever creates a stark contrast to the deathly white pallor, looking almost as if somebody has applied rouge to his cheeks. His lips are bloodless and cracked, his mouth slack, slightly open.

_He already looks dead_ thinks Danny, and he holds on to the railing of the bed as his legs threaten to give out on him. A soft keening sound escapes his lips as he stares at the man lying there, so quiet, so god-awful quiet.

Shaking, he lifts a hand, gently touches Steve's brow. "Hey there, partner. I'm so sorry we didn't get to you sooner, that you had to wait that long before we came for you." He swallows, barely able to speak through the grief constricting his throat.

"But please, babe, don't give up on us, OK? Don't leave us thinking we didn't care, because we do, Steven. We care, and we love you. Just keep fighting, babe. You made it out of that car and off that mountain, and you made it to hospital and you pulled through surgery."

Danny's heart is pouring out of his mouth, pouring down his face. "We need you, Steve, we so desperately need you. We're not Five-0 without you, we're not complete, not _whole_. So prove those doctors wrong. Just be your normal, stubborn SEAL self and prove them wrong by not dying. OK? Can you do that for me, buddy?"

He looks for a response, a flicker of an eyelash, or a change in heart rhythm, but there's nothing. "You just rest for now, babe. We're all here, the others are outside, and we'll be keeping you company the whole way through." He strokes the quiet brow, his fingers soft, gentle, then places his lips against it, whispering softly.

"We got you, Steve.

* * *

The dark blue van slows down next to the young Hawaiian walking along the sidewalk, then stops. He looks up. The window on the passenger side opens up, and he can see the driver leaning over the passenger seat.

"Hey kid, I'm lost here. Can you help me out and give me directions?"

The face of the young man breaks out in a smile, and he steps down off the sidewalk, hoisting his backpack with climbing gear onto his other shoulder. "Sure, Mister. Where do you need to go?"

The next moment, the side door of the van slides open and two pairs of hands grab him, yank him inside the van. As the door quickly slides close again, a gag is stuffed into the young man's mouth as his arms are roughly bound behind him.

The van pulls away from the curb, then drives off.

* * *

_We need you, Steve._

Somehow, the voice filters through to the deep, dark void he has been in the last couple of hours. It's a place very different from where he's been before, bearing no relation to the calm darkness he has floated in.

This is not a place of healing, of waiting; this is a place of severing ties, of shedding burdens before moving on. He has been ready for a while, ready to take that last step, to make that final journey.

Yet something has been holding him back, prevented him from cutting those last ties binding him to a thing called Life. It is the same thing which has pulled him back not once, but twice in the OR.

Despite not being burdened by anything remotely resembling emotions, there is a sensation, something akin to curiosity which makes him falter, restraining him from moving on.

The dark void moves around him, almost as if it tries to gently force him to cross the border between Life and Death; but he resists. Then the voice reaches him again.

_We got you, Steve._

He decides to wait.


	8. Choices

You have a choice.  
Live or die.  
Every breath is a choice. Every minute is a choice.  
To be or not to be.

\- Chuck Palahniuk -

* * *

8\. CHOICES

They have been climbing for hours. The two men are breathing heavily, cursing as their feet slip on the muddy parts of the trail, their breath coming in gasps. The youngest of the three seems to fare a lot better, but his eyes are filled with caution, fear; continuously aware of the guns hidden from view.

It is very early, and so far they haven't met anyone else on the trail. Spending the night on a cold hard concrete floor had stiffened the young man's muscles, but the hours walking and climbing have helped limber him up. His movements are smooth, his body the prime example of agility.

He knows though that, as soon as they reach the top, his physical abilities won't serve him, won't help him. Plunging straight down the side of a cliff will terminate with a finality that doesn't discriminate between clumsiness and agility, no matter how you look at it.

However, he refuses to go willingly to his death.

"Boss wants to know if you can fly" one of the men had stated when they pulled him off the hard floor earlier that morning. He'd known instantly what they had planned, what his fate would be. Scared, he'd put up little resistance as they yanked him out of the house, thrown him into the van.

His mouth had been stuffed with a rag again, arms and legs secured by tie-rips. The ride had given him time to reflect, mentally going over his options, certain that he had none. At some point tears had started to flow, grieving that he did not have the chance to say goodbye to his friends, to his family.

Not one moment, however, did he regret his participation in getting the severely injured man off the mountain. Because that was the reason he had been taken, explained one of the men.

"You messed up the boss's plans, kid. Too bad, really. Should've left the fucker there to die. Now you're gonna die yourself."

As they come out of the densely forested part of the trail, on top of a sharp bend, an opportunity presents itself. A quick look on either side of the sharply downward running cliff shows bare, deadly rocks on one side, and trees further down on the other.

He decides to take his chance with the trees, knowing the rocks will end in certain death. Pretending to slip, he falls backwards into the man behind him, taking him by surprise, causing him to stumble. Grim determination propels him forward, trying to gain as much momentum as possible as he runs towards the man in front, then suddenly veers off to the right.

Air rushes by his ears as he free-falls, his heart and blood pounding loudly in his ears. He knows he may still die, the leap off the cliff as crazy as anything he has ever done, the outcome anything but certain. But at least it is of his own doing, instead of plummeting into space due to a hard push in his back.

Twisting, steering his arms and legs, he aims for the large trees, off to his left. His nickname 'flying squirrel' is apt, but he's uncertain whether it will serve him now.

_Fucking Rambo!_ he thinks detachedly, screaming out loud as several ribs break due to his chest impacting with a large, unyielding branch. He tries to slow down his descent along the tree, howling as more bones give testimony to the fact that wood can be as hard as stone.

When his head hits the trunk of the tree, causing darkness to invade his sight, his body becomes limp, no longer able to control his fall.

The two men on top off the cliff stare down, listen whether they can still hear sounds. Both of them had been completely taken by surprise when the kid launched himself off into space, too astounded even to draw their guns. When all they hear is silence, when the sound of breaking branches, the screams have stopped, one of them shrugs.

"Guess he couldn't fly after all."

* * *

All members of Five-0's team have slipped in and out of the ICU cubicle as regular as clockwork, but it's Danny who keeps an almost constant vigil. He falls back whenever nurses and doctors come to check on their patient, and he watches in silent anguish when they treat Steve's injuries.

The gauze packed in the horrific open wound in Steve's left arm is refreshed on a regular basis, and Danny finally sees the damage done to both legs when the sheet is drawn back to check on the external support frame attached to his lower left leg.

His tears flow freely again, terrified for his friend, deeply saddened by what he has to endure.

The fever spikes again during the night, resulting in a convulsion, causing the otherwise motionless body to jerk from side to side like a dead rat shaken by a dog. Danny slams on the call button, yelling at the staff to _Fucking hurry!_ while he tries to console Steve, placing his hands on his chest in a desperate effort to still the shaking frame of his friend.

"Easy there, babe. Just try to ride it out, they'll be here any second to help you." He fights hard to keep his voice even, his tone level, trying to keep out his deep fear that this might be the moment Steve will give up, will stop breathing. Much to his own and the staff's surprise, this hurdle is overcome as well.

Steve is still here, still fighting. Still breathing.

The doctor treating Five-0's Commander is baffled, and he tells Danny so. The odds against Steve staying alive are so huge, so mind-boggling uneven that major bets have been placed amongst the staff. This is something the doctor does _not_ tell Danny.

When they leave after controlling the seizure, adjusting the medication, checking the machines to make sure they continue to support Steve's system in an adequate manner, the cubicle becomes silent again. Danny replaces the uncomfortable plastic chair in its spot next to the bed, tentatively grabs hold of the limp hand on the sheet, catching himself as he checks for a pulse.

Danny looks at the face, nearly as pale as the pillow it rests on. He takes a quivering breath, still trying to come down from yet another adrenaline shock, another episode of fearing he will lose Steve. "Hey there, big guy." Scraping his throat, he tries to get rid of the tremor in his voice. "Still hanging in there, aren't you. Still showing everybody how stubborn you are."

The machines continue their beeps and hisses, not changing their rhythm. Danny doesn't think he's getting through to him, thinks Steve is too far down in whatever pain-filled hole he's stuck in. It doesn't stop him though, doesn't halt his efforts of trying to make contact, trying to elicit a response.

He dozes off every once in a while, exhausted from both emotions and keeping his strict vigil. The staff has not been able to chase him from the room, and he startles awake every time a nurse comes padding in. Danny watches the ministrations to his friend like a hawk, keeping tabs on what they do to him, hating the gurgling sounds when they clean the tube in his throat. They sound like a death rattle.

Dreams, _bad_ dreams invade the short periods when he sleeps. Images of a burned-out wreck, Steve's body unrecognizable and curled up in the driver's seat. A blood covered doctor walking through the doors, shaking his head as he comes towards him, empathy engraved on his face. The medical team working hard on Steve's still body, a continuous and drawn out beep coming from the heart monitor, then resignation as they pull back from the bed.

Jerking awake after the last horrific images have tortured his tired brain, Danny notices that morning light is filtering through a crack in the window covers. His head whips towards Steve, frightened that he may have quietly died without anybody noticing it.

Relieved to see the chest still moving up and down, still hearing the steady *beep* signaling that there is still a heart beat, Danny places a hand on Steve's head. "You're still here, big guy. That's good, that's real good." A small smile creeps around his lips. "You're still being a stubborn lughead."

Then he turns serious. "I don't know if you can hear me, but I'd like you to know I'm sticking around until I get to see your big goofy smile again." Tears suddenly threaten, and he swallows the lump, continues in a softer voice. "I miss that smile, babe. I miss _you!_" He gently strokes the hand, motionless in his own, runs gentle fingers over the pale cheek.

"Stay with us, babe."

* * *

The two men and woman steadily work their way through the dense interwoven structure of trees and low shrubs. They're experienced climbers and hikers, a necessary part of their main job; categorizing native botany. This part of Oahu still needs extensive research, and they're here to make it happen, even if it is hard and oftentimes stifling work.

As they slowly descend off the side of a cliff, one of the men spots something ahead, something colored completely different from the lush hues of green. "Hey guys? Look down there." They peer at the point he indicates and see a blend of red and white. "Huh. Let's go see what it is."

When they draw close, they're shocked to see a young man, limbs twisted beneath him, slumped at the bottom of a large tree. "Holy shit!" One of the men looks up, notices the broken branches much further up the tree. "Unbelievable! It looks like he fell from the top of the tree!"

The woman bends down over the still form, careful not to bump his arms and legs. She places a finger underneath his chin, then gently wraps her fingers around a wrist. "He's alive! Get on the satphone, he needs to get to a hospital as soon as possible!" 

* * *

Chin puts down the phone, frowning as he looks at Lou and Kono. "You guys are not going to believe this. Kai Kalama just got airlifted from Kahana Valley and is on his way to Queen's." Kono looks up in shock. "What happened?"

Chin shakes his head. "They don't know. He was found in a dense part of the trees at the bottom of one of the ridges. Seems he has taken a fall from the top of a tree. Busted up pretty badly, they haven't been able to talk to him yet." Lou sighs. "Guess that squirrel didn't fly this time, huh."

Kono glowers at him. "So not nice, Lou!" Lou lifts his eyebrows. "What? He's called Squirrel and they find him next to a tree." Chin breaks into their bickering. "I'm afraid there's more to this. I just found that Kai's parents filed a missing person report last night."

Lou and Kono immediately come over to the PC table. Chin continues to read the report. "He lives at home and failed to show for dinner; they couldn't raise him on his cell phone. There's a note added here that they kept trying to call him all night and never reached him."

They look at one another, frowning. "OK" says Lou. "So we have one of the kids that rescued Steve failing to come home, then he's found the next morning somewhere in a valley, busted to bits. Coincidence?" Chin slowly shakes his head. "No brah, I don't think this is a coincidence. We need to call Danny."

* * *

Peter Wright mulls over the report his men have given him of the incident on top of the cliff. The kid launched himself off of it before they could push him. Why? He shakes his head; it doesn't matter. The kid had been the one to take the jump towards the helicopter, the one who ensured McGarrett got off the mountain. And he had paid him back for it.

There's one down, and several to go. Wright picks up the list from the table, scans over the names. He stops at the fourth name on the list. _Marc Lejeune_. The Marine medic who treated McGarrett's wounds while he was still inside the wreck. The one who kept him alive until he reached the hospital.

Wright feels a rush of anger course through him again at the memory of how those young kids managed to thwart his careful plans, then just as quickly he smiles. Lejeune will be next to feel his wrath. His men have quickly but carefully managed to gather information on each and every one of them, and he knows where Lejeune will be later this morning.

He will make sure there is a welcoming committee waiting for him when he shows up.

* * *

The nurse quietly slips inside the ICU cubicle. "Detective Williams, you have a phone call. I believe it's one of your colleagues." Danny nods, takes a look at Steve, then follows the nurse outside, giving her a small smile as he takes the phone.

"Williams."

"Hey Danny, it's Chin. How's Steve?" Danny rubs a tired hand over his eyes. "All things considering, including his fever spiking and resulting in one hell of a convulsion during the night, he's doing well. I mean ... he's still here." He listens to the grunt coming from the other end.

"That's Steve for you, brah. Never backs down from a fight."

Danny utters a short barking laugh. Chin is right, of course. Steve McGarrett does not back down, however bad the odds may be. Somehow, that realization makes him feel a little better. Steve will fight, fight with everything he's got. It has gotten him this far, against all expectations.

Chin continues to talk, filling him in on Kai's accident. When he mentions the missing person report, Danny frowns. "So what do you think about it, Danny?" It takes him less than a second to reach a conclusion. "I think Peter Wright may have broadened his concept of 'revenge', is what I think. I also think we have to warn the others involved in Steve's rescue."

Danny thinks quickly. "You said Kai was brought here, to Queen's?" He listens to Chin's confirmation. "OK, seeing how I'm already here, I'll try to find out the extent of his injuries, see when he's able to talk. We might get some additional info, although I'm fairly certain it's Wright."

When he hangs up, knowing that his three team mates at HQ will work hard to warn the rest of the rescue team, Danny quickly goes back to Steve. He's still quietly lying there, not moving. Danny blinks rapidly, fighting back the emotions which come so readily lately. "I'm going to check on something, babe. I'll be back before you know it."

He gently strokes Steve's arm, then walks out.

* * *

It takes the Five-0 team less than thirty minutes to inform each of the members of the canyoneer team that Kai has been seriously injured. To say they are shocked is an understatement. Kai's closest friend Noa immediately dispels any lingering doubts that this may have been an accident.

"No way!" he says vehemently. "There's just no way Kai would go climbing by himself, that's a rule we have!" Chin tries to calm him down, telling him to stay put until he's picked up the HPD and placed in protective custody.

"Whoever did this, you guys are gonna catch him, right? Catch the asshole that hurt Kai!" Noa is almost crying with frustration. Chin's face turns grim. "Oh, never fear. We will hunt that sucker down. There's not a place on this island, or in the world for that matter, where he'll be safe."

Apprehending Peter Wright has become Five-0's primary objective.

* * *

Marc Lejeune is untying his surf board from the top of the little rental, ready to catch the early morning waves as he does every Saturday. He looks up in surprise as two beefy men suddenly appear at his side. One of them aims a gun at him.

"Don't make a ruckus and just come quietly. Our boss wants to have a little word with you."

Marc feels a rush of adrenaline coursing through his body, his combat skills suddenly going on full alert. He seizes up the men, knows he stands a good chance of taking out at least one of them, maybe even both. But he's no match for the gun.

He relaxes, smiles. "I don't think so, guys. Don't feel like breaking my routine." The men throw a surprised look at each other, then start moving in on him. Marc keeps smiling, unnerving them.

Suddenly the parking lot is full of SWAT team members, pointing their rifles at the two men. Five-0 is there as well, moving in to stand between Marc and the two men. The look of astonishment on the faces of Wright's henchmen is almost comical.

Marc's smile becomes wider, and he even winks at the men. "Told you I didn't feel like it."

* * *

As it turns out, Kai has been placed on the same ICU floor as Steve. When Danny is allowed to see him, he feels sorry for the kid. He has suffered multiple fractures and broken ribs, the tree not only breaking his fall but his body as well.

He still hasn't regained consciousness, but the doctors are hopeful, stating he has a good chance of complete recovery. Danny decides he will come back later to check on him again, to find out if Kai can tell him more about his abduction.

Walking back to Steve's room, Danny is about to enter when he is waylaid by an elderly nurse. She quickly steers him into the nurses' station, then sits him down at a table. Silencing his protests, she sets a cup of fresh coffee, a glass of orange juice and a plate with two sandwiches in front of him.

"Now don't you dare leave here before you finish this, young man. You're no good to your friend if you don't eat." Danny looks up in her stern face, sees the concern in her eyes. He smiles, grateful, and starts eating. The nurse gives him an approving nod, then walks out.

Fifteen minutes later Danny is back with Steve.

"Hey there, big guy. Miss me?" He takes up his place at the side of the bed again, stroking Steve's arm, his face; talking to him about nonsensical little things, telling him how much he misses him, how Steve has to keep fighting because _Fuck!_ otherwise they'll all be lost.

There still isn't any change, any sign that Steve hears him. However, Danny is 100% sheer Jersey stubbornness, and he isn't going to let some little thing like not getting a response shut him up, stop him from doing what he thinks needs to be done. So he goes on talking, touching, all the time looking for a response.

He's not giving up on his friend.

* * *

When the two men fail to return, fail to bring the Marine to Wright, he goes ballistic. Screaming with rage, he turns to one of the men who hiked up the cliff that morning. "You said he was _dead_, that's what you said! Did you _check_ ?"

The man swallows nervously. "Boss, that was ... it was way down the cliff. We just couldn't ..."

Wright lunges at a man standing next to him, grabs the gun from his hand and turns around again. "Couldn't? You mean _wouldn't_!" And with that he shoots the man through the head. Throwing the gun on the floor, he starts pacing, muttering to himself.

Suddenly he comes to a dead stop. There's a mad look in his eyes, causing the remaining men to back away even further. "All right, OK. So if I want something done, I'll have to do it myself. That's it. Just do it myself." He walks to the window, looking out. When he turns, his face is calm.

"I guess I'm going to visit someone in hospital."

* * *

He senses more than feels the continuous touches on his forehead, his arm, his face. Hears the ongoing whispering, not understanding the words but somehow able to process them. Both serve as a tether, keeping the dark void surrounding him from pushing him across that border, keeping him from making that ultimate and final move.

The tiny spark of life still residing in his body refuses to extinguish, fueled by the physical contact, by the words softly spoken in his ear, by the sheer intensity of the man holding on to him both physically and emotionally, refusing to surrender him.

_Stay with us, babe._


	9. Breathe

**Update:** As the guest review (the one giving me so much praise that I'm sure I'll still be blushing right into July; for which my humble thanks ;-) pointed out, my mind obviously got stuck in one story and used material for the other. HPD, not LAPD. Noted and corrected.

* * *

"Breathe in deeply to bring your mind home to your body."

\- Thích Nhất Hạnh -

* * *

9\. BREATHE

Kai Kalama is planning to search the heavens, find his lucky star and then thank it for the rest of eternity. As soon as he can walk again, that is. Which, according to the doctors, is a certain and guaranteed prospect but will take, well ... time.

He can still see the doctor's face, incredulous, as he ticked off the injuries Kai sustained from his death-defying leap off the mountain. Broken left leg: check. Broken right leg: check. Broken left arm: check. Broken right arm: check. Broken ribs: check, check, check. And check.

Leaving the last, most frightening injury. Broken neck: unfortunately, check. Two vertebrae have snapped, presumably when his head hit the trunk of the tree. Kai vaguely remembers that moment, almost certain it was the end of the ride for him. A permanent end, kinda like the final terminal.

Lucky for him, he'd been wrong. Luckier still, the breaks are clean, meaning that his spinal cord isn't damaged. As far as the doctor is concerned, Kai needn't worry that he will never be able to go canyoneering again. However, he has a long, _very_ long recovery road ahead of him.

He looks up as the door to his room opens, grins as Noa peeks around the corner. He's been told Noa has visited before, but he was still cruising on the after-effects of his surgery, blissfully unaware of the pain resulting from being put together again. He therefor has also missed the shocked reaction of his friend when he first saw him.

"Hey, Humpty Dumpty!" Noa saunters into the room, waving at the air behind him. "Mind if Marc joins us?" Kai peers around his friend, sees the smiling face of the young SARC. "No man, of course not! Come in already."

They step up to the bed, looking at Kai. "Oh man, full body cast, huh?" Marc throws Kai a sympathetic look, making sure he remains in his line of sight; the stiff neck brace is preventing Kai from turning his head. Noa looks at Kai, then at Marc. "Told you; he's Humpty Dumpty. You're better off asking what he _hasn't_ broken than to list his injuries."

Marc shakes his head, still finding it unbelievable that Kai has actually survived his desperate jump. "You're a fucking nut-case, Kai. You know that, don't you?" Kai gives him a little smile. "Yeah, but I'm a _living_ nut-case." The jocular mood vanishes with the remark.

Noa points at Marc, intent on telling Kai what happened to him that morning. A quick gesture cuts him off, but Kai has seen it, knows something's up. "What?" Marc shakes his head while Noa stares down at the ground, looking uncomfortable. Kai frowns. "Come on, guys; I may be incapacitated but I'm not suffering from brain damage, you know."

Noa squeaks. "Debatable."

"You funny." Kai glowers at him. "Now spill. What were you gonna tell me." His eyes settle on Marc, demanding an answer. "OK, fine." Marc scrapes his throat. "You weren't the only one targeted." He watches Kai's eyes grow big, then quickly continues. "Five-0 warned us all in time. Jason, Aaron and Kama were taken into protective custody, so they were safe."

Kai frowns. "And you weren't." Marc shakes his head, a grim little smile appearing on his face. "No. I actually volunteered to be bait." Kai and Noa stare at him; this last bit is news to Noa as well. "Why?" Marc shrugs, looks at Noa. "No offense, but I had combat training. They were willing to take the chance with me because of that."

"So what happened?" Kai looks at Marc, a new respect in his eyes. "They arrested the two guys who tried to abduct me. Not sure what happened after that; they haven't told us much. All I know is the others are still in protective custody somewhere, and I'm on a very tight leash."

Kai lets it sink in, until Noa taps him on the shoulder. "You know the guy we rescued is here as well, right?" Kai nods. "Yeah, his partner was here this morning. Asked a lot of questions about, you know ... those guys who took me. I couldn't tell him much." He swallows, the memory of it all none too pleasant.

"Do you happen to know how he's doing?" Marc looks from Kai to Noa, and it's Noa who answers. "From what I heard, not too good; touch and go, actually."

Marc makes a mental note to find out as soon as he's done visiting with Kai.

* * *

It has been two days; forty-eight hours in which there have been both minor and major medical emergencies, invoking curses, hordes of medical staff, barked orders and much yelling, the latter predominantly on Danny's part. And each one contributing to another frayed nerve, another gray hair as Danny watches Life and Death engaged in a fierce tug of war, the prize being Steve.

Somewhere within the first twenty-four hours Steve's heart rate had sped up, slowly rising. At first, Danny felt a sense of elation, convinced the steadily increasing sound of the ECG monitor meant Steve was gradually emerging from the depths of that dark place he was residing in.

Elation had given way to concern and then approached panic as he noticed the beads of sweat appearing on the pale forehead, indicating his fever was rising again. Before the monitor's alarm even had the chance to shrill a warning, Danny had already pushed the call button, summoning a nurse.

"There's something wrong, he's sweating. That's not good, I mean, him sweating again. It's a fever, right? I mean, it was supposed to be going down and now it's going up again." Trying to remain calm, his anxiety was clearly written all over his face, apparent from his nervously gesticulating hands, the words rushing over his lips like a waterfall.

Checking Steve's vitals, the nurse frowned, managing to jack up Danny's sense that something was off to an even higher level. She was gone and back into the room so fast Danny felt he had barely blinked. Seconds later the doctor was there as well, quickly going over Steve's chart, frowning at the monitors at the head of the bed.

"What? There's something wrong, isn't there. What?!" Danny looked from Steve to the doctor and back, desperate to know what was going on, trying to urge the doctor into action to _do_ something. Ignoring the question, the doctor turned back the sheet covering Steve's legs.

"_Damn it!_"

The uttered expletive resulted in Danny's heart lurching, the phantom ice cold hand gripping it the only reason it remained within his chest. Grabbing the doctor's sleeve, Danny demanded his attention. "_What?!_ Tell me what's wrong with him, what ..."

Frowning, the doctor had pointed to Steve's right leg, the bottom half of which was red and swollen, the skin looking as if it was too tight. "He's most likely suffering from compartment syndrome." The doctor had turned towards the nurse, ordered "ICP monitor; _now_!", then turned back towards Danny. "He probably needs surgery to relieve the pressure, but in his condition, being so weak ..."

The words were left unspoken, but again, Danny had known what the man wanted to say.

The following fifteen minutes the doctor had measured the values within Steve's leg, uttered another expletive and then gone out to arrange time in the OR. Steve had been unhooked from the monitors, hooked up to portable ones and then wheeled out of the room, leaving a devastated Danny behind, Chin's arrival half an hour later the only thing preventing him from going stark raving mad.

It had been almost two hours later when, impossible but true, an even paler Steve was wheeled back into the cubicle. The doctor explained they had to perform an emergency fasciotomy, a procedure which basically meant slicing open Steve's leg to relieve pressure.

When the doctor drew back the sheet to show what they had done, Danny gagged, slamming a hand over his mouth as if to physically hold in the vomit that threatened to spill out.

There were two huge, open wounds on each side of Steve's calve, starting just beneath the knee and running almost all the way down to his ankle. The edges of the open wound were loosely sutured together, leaving them raw and open, muscles bulging out; Danny's exhausted mind likened it to a sick parody of a fat lady in a corset.

He had to turn around then; faced the wall as one arm supported him against it, vaguely hearing Chin's low, calm voice asking questions and the doctor answering. All Danny could do was try to prevent his mind being short-circuited by the horrible images of Steve's abused body, sliced open like ... _like a fucking frog being dissected!_

Chin's hand on his shoulder helped break through the maelstrom of emotions, the stuck-in-a-loop slide show of horrifying, heart-breaking images. "Doctor said they probably got it in time, Danny. They are pretty sure they will be able to save his leg." _Jesus; save his leg?!_ He hadn't even gotten that part, the fact that Steve might actually lose the limb.

The already intense and frequent monitoring of his near-death friend had increased even more after that surgery, keeping a constant eye on his condition, ready to act the instant any other complications would arise.

"Hey babe," Danny had muttered when he was finally able to compose himself and sit next to the bed again, gently stroking the still sweaty brow of his partner. "Please don't scare me like that again. OK? Just tell that body of yours that it's now time to start healing. It's time to start coming back to us, not going away."

He'd watched the monitors, keeping track of every beep, every hiss for hours after the surgery, deathly afraid that one of them would start giving off an alarm again. Terrified that Death would win. But Steve was holding his own, his vitals remaining steady, his heart continuing to pump blood through his body; clinging on to life.

The first twenty-four hours had slowly moved on and then passed, and Steve was still there, still inhaling, exhaling; still breathing. The reactions amongst medical staff coming back on duty ranged from incredulity to shock - _'He's still __**alive**__ ?!' _\- and the bets were upped, dividing the staff into two factions; the He-Can-Do-Its versus the He-Ain't-Gonna-Make-Its. It was a 30-70 devision.

All Danny can do is throw his weight in the ongoing tug of war, adding his strength to that of his partner by anchoring him, by emotionally ensuring him that he needs to stay, persuading him to not let go. "Remember partner, we're your _ohana_, we're the ones that got your back" he whispers, continuing to hold his hand, to stroke his face and brow.

"Just keep fighting, babe."

* * *

The big Hawaiian cuffed to the chair in Interrogation isn't talking. Yet. As far as Lou is concerned, it's only a matter of time before he will have persuaded him that the man's fear of his boss needs to take a back-seat. Peter Wright may be a mad, scary son-of-a-bitch, but his craziness is no match for the collective fury of the Five-0 team members.

Lou feels that fury burning inside him, coiled in his gut, ready to strike out and exact revenge for what happened to Steve. He can control it for now, though; the need to extract information from this man still exceeds the urge to wrap his hands around the man's neck, the maddening compulsion to either _ snap, _or better yet, _squeeze_; to watch the terror in the Hawaiian's eyes rise until it matches the level Steve must've felt, the level _they_ had felt.

Are still feeling now.

Kono, leaning against the wall, deceptively calm, oozes that same fury. It is an almost palpable entity, slowly meandering through the bare room, curling around the chair holding Wright's henchman. Lou stares into the man's eyes and sees with grim satisfaction that he has become aware of his predicament; knows now there is no absolute guarantee he'll leave this room alive.

When they dragged the man in, Lou checked all of his oaths to serve and protect at the door. He's a cop through and through, but more than that he is a _friend_. And during the time he has now worked within Five-0's _ohana_, has become part of it, he has learned that the type of loyalty to each other far exceeds the boundaries of duty, spills over the normally perceived limitations of ordinary friendship.

To hurt one of their own is a crime which will be swiftly met with by their own form of justice.

"You better talk, _lolo kanapapiki_" Kono says, simultaneously sounding detached and threatening. "Before my partner here loses his self-control." She shifts, leaning almost imperceptibly towards the man in the chair. "I've seen it happen, and I can guarantee you ... it's not very pretty." A satisfied glint in her eyes, she watches him swallow nervously.

Sweat is slowly forming on the Hawaiian's forehead, starting to run down in tiny rivulets of condensed fear. He is increasingly becoming aware of that third, almost physical entity; it's a constricting thing, a menacing aura, causing his heart to try thumping out of his chest.

"I want protection!" The words almost explode out of his mouth, his wide eyes weary as Lou bends down towards him. "Now would that be protection from your boss? Or us?" It takes the man less than a split second to weigh his options, to figure out which choice stands a greater chance of him staying alive. "From Wright" he manages to stutter, and feels an intense sense of relief as Lou backs away.

"Start talking."

* * *

Marc hesitates for a second, stopping himself before walking into the ICU cubicle. He can see the bed, the man on it attached to a myriad of monitors, hooked up to multiple IV lines. Shifting his focus he sees the slumped form in the chair next to the bed, the hand resting on the arm on the sheet. Detective Daniel Williams, he knows; the Commander's partner.

He remembers meeting him on Tantalus Drive, looking so intensely shocked, so incredibly _horrified_, face deadly white, his feet just barely able to maintain an unstable connection with the ground, that for a second Marc had wondered whether he needed medical attention first. The shell-shocked look in the man's eyes had been gut-wrenching.

Steeling himself, Marc quietly forges ahead, stepping into the cubicle.

Williams' head goes up, then turns towards him. It takes a few seconds for recognition to appear in the red-rimmed, tired eyes; then a smile tugs up the corners of his mouth. "You're the medic that helped Steve." Marc nods. "Not medic; SARC, actually." He watches Williams roll his eyes. "You Navy guys, you're all the same" he whispers. "Always correcting people."

For a second Marc wants to explain how continuous use of correct terminology, turning it into an automated habit, can actually save lives while in combat; wants to point out that a wrong word may result in unnecessary casualties. He holds back though, as it's painfully obvious that the last thing Williams needs is a lecture on language etiquette.

The man seems to have gone beyond the point of exhaustion; his face is drawn, the skin almost gray, blue-tinged shadows underneath his eyes. Marc notices that the man's hand never leaves the arm it's resting on, as if his touch is meant to prevent the man on the bed from slipping away.

"How's he doing?" Marc nods at the Commander, taking in the slack, lifeless looking features, the tube in his throat, the sheet raised off his legs by a protective frame. He knows the answer before it is given to him.

"He's ... he's holding his own. Fighting." Williams throws Marc a grim little smile. "The doctor is basically shocked that he's still here." The hand not holding on to his partner waves at the bed. "All this, it ... he basically wasn't supposed to survive all that. And they still don't give him much of a chance."

Marc walks towards Danny, places a hand on his shoulder. "Look, when I found him, when I saw the state he was in, I was shocked as well. Most people would've been dead; trust me. But the Commander is one hell of a fighter, that much is obvious. Just look at everything he survived already."

His hand squeezes the shoulder. "Now that he has medical support, frankly I'd be surprised if he didn't pull through. Especially with you at his side." The blue eyes looking up at him are moist, filled with emotion. "Thank you."

Marc nods, then scrutinizes Williams' face. "You look like you could do with some sleep, Detective. Haven't the doctor or your team members ..." He's cut of by a gesture of Williams' hand. "Yes, yes, they have. All of them. And no, I'm not leaving his side." A pained look appears on his face. "Although ..." He sighs.

"Can I help you with anything, Detective?" Marc throws him an inquiring look.

"Well, I'd really like to see my daughter, but I don't want to leave Steve, you know, just in case he wakes up. And even if he doesn't, on that mountain ... he was alone for so long ...I don't want him to go through that again." He stares at the pale face, reaches up with a gentle hand to stroke the still brow. "I promised him we'd be by his side every step of the way."

A smile appears on Marc's face. "How about I stay with him. If you trust me, that is. I mean, after all, I'm a stranger."

He watches Williams think, then glance towards the bed. "I wouldn't be gone long ... and he's still unconscious. And I don't want to bug the rest of the team; they're working the case, even though it's Sunday." Marc can see the man is torn between staying with his partner and seeing his child; torn between two people he obviously loves. "I promise to look after him."

That seems to do it. Williams looks up at him, nods. "You already looked after him, when ..." His voice drops. "I mean, you helped him stay alive. That already means so much." Marc cuts him off. "It's what I do, Detective." He grins. "I'm a SARC, remember?"

The other man rolls his eyes again, his face relaxing in a smile. "Yes, I remember. OK, I'll go then." He stands up, leans over the man on the bed. Marc watches as the detective whispers something in the Commander's ear, then pat his arm.

"Right, I'll be on my way. I shouldn't be gone for more than two hours, tops. And if anything happens ..." Marc throw him a reassuring look. "If there's any change in his condition, you'll be the first to know." Williams nods, throws one more look at the bed, then steels himself and walks out.

Marc walks towards the bed, then quietly sits down on the chair next to it. He hesitates for a moment, then carefully places a hand on the still arm. Quickly scanning the output of the monitors above the bed, he nods, pleased with the readings. Then he turns towards the man on the bed.

"Hey Commander, remember me?"

* * *

Lou and Kono join Chin back at the office. Their suspect had sung like a hyperactive canary, divulged everything he knew about his boss, Peter Wright. They now know where he's hiding, know the names of his other accomplices, and - most importantly - have gotten confirmation of what Danny initially thought.

Wright is out for revenge, and he won't stop until Steve is dead.

"We need to put a security detail on Steve, right now." Chin nods, picks up the phone. "I'm on it." Kono holds up a hand. "Maybe put one on Kai Kalama as well. Who knows, Wright might still want to kill him, just out of sheer spite." "Good idea. Chin?" Lou looks at Chin, who holds up a hand, indicating he has heard and will arrange it.

Right then Danny calls, informing them he has gone to see Grace. "_Jesus_ Jersey!" Lou is almost shouting. "You left him _alone ?!_" Watching both Chin and Kono frown, listening to the frantic voice on the other side, Lou realizes he needs to tone it down; he's scaring the shit out of Danny.

"Listen, I'm sorry I yelled, OK? Steve is safe if that Marine is with him." Lou listens to Danny going beyond ballistic, closes his eyes. "Jersey ... _Danny!_ Please listen. It's OK. Sorry I panicked." He takes a deep breath. "You were right. We got valuable info from that suspect we were grilling, and Wright really is out for revenge. HPD is en route, maybe even there already, to put a security detail on both Steve and the Kalama kid."

Danny continues his panicked chatter, is sounding less freaked however, and Lou interrupts once more. "No, you go see Grace. I'm sure she misses you, and I'm even more certain you need a break from the hospital. Listen Jersey, you won't be able to help Steve if you cave from sheer exhaustion. Give your mind a break."

It's finally silent on the other side, Danny probably thinking hard. Lou decides to give matters a little push in the right direction. "Go see Grace, and I'll update you the minute HPD is with Steve." He listens to Danny reluctantly agreeing, obviously realizing that the team has got Steve's back, trusting Marc to keep him safe until HPD gets there. Lou smiles.

"I'll call you, Jersey. Say 'hi' to Grace from us."

* * *

He draws back behind the corner of the building, watching two HPD squad cars pull up to the main entrance of the hospital. When he looks behind him, he sees two more police cars, disappearing in a side street. An ugly sneer flashes across his features, turning his face into a mask of sheer madness.

Then, just as sudden, his face becomes calm again, almost devoid of emotions. They have made a big mistake; he now knows they have gotten hold of information, know his plans. All he needs to do is change his plans, make sure they won't see him coming; go underground.

He smiles as he walks away.

* * *

The dark void no longer beckons him. Instead, he's floating in a calm, tranquil sea, letting his body heal while his mind is adrift. He is still too far removed from consciousness to be aware of any sensory input, feel the soft and gentle hands checking his body, hear the voices discussing his vitals.

The only voice that manages to reach down to him is the one which coaxed him back from the void, the one which provided him with an anchor, preventing him from taking that final step into the Beyond.

_I need to go, just for a while. Don't worry, babe. I'll be back soon. You stay, just keep breathing._

So he does. He keeps breathing.


	10. Healing

AUTHOR'S NOTE - My apologies for the delay in posting this update. Hope it has been worth the wait. 

* * *

"Healing is a matter of time,

but it is sometimes also a matter of opportunity."

\- Hippocrates - 

* * *

10\. HEALING 

"Danno, when can I go see Uncle Steve?" Grace pulls herself back from her father's chest. Danny's been hugging her fiercely for the last fifteen minutes, almost as if she's his life line, his tether to sanity. She's OK with that, instinctively feeling his need.

Danny looks at her serious, upturned face. "Not for a while yet, Grace Face." Disappointment flashes over her features. "Why not?" Danny sighs. There are so many reasons why he wants to keep his daughter away from hospital; the fact Steve's still unconscious, the presence of the HPD.

The all too real possibility of Wright trying to finish the job he started.

Sighing, Grace presses herself against Danny again. She mumbles something, the words lost in his shirt. "What? Hey, look at me when you talk, OK? Last time I checked my ears were attached to my head, not to my ribs." He smiles down at her.

"What if he ... what if Uncle Steve, you know, dies? And I never get to see him anymore?" There are tears in her eyes when she looks up, and Danny feels his heart drop down into his stomach.

The bond between his daughter and his partner is undeniably strong, and he knows they love each other. But God forbid her being there if another medical emergency occurs, or worse, her being there if he does, indeed, die. He could never live with that, her going through that type of trauma. Then again, he doesn't know is _she_ can live with Steve dying without ever having seen him again.

Danny draws a deep breath, trying to keep the tears at bay. "This is very difficult for me to say, OK Monkey? Yes, there still is a chance that he might not make it; I'm not going to lie to you about that." He can feel her starting to cry against him, grabbing on to his shirt; his own breath hitches as he continues.

"Right now he's not even conscious, so he wouldn't really know if you were there. And to be brutally honest, I don't think your last image of Uncle Steve should be how he..." Danny swallows, his hands tucking a few strands of hair behind her ears. "He doesn't look very good."

Grace burrows deeper into his shirt. "But I promise you ... hey, look at me." Danny gently pulls her back, looking down into two very sad, teary eyes. "I promise you that, if he regains consciousness - and knowing your Uncle Steve that is a very huge possibility, because honestly, I've never met a more stubborn man and he's very capable of thumbing his nose at Death itself - I'll take you to see him. OK?"

Grace nods, then frowns. "The minute he wakes up?" Danny smiles. "The very second." 

* * *

The presence of the HPD officers stationed at the entrance is annoying, but Wright still manages to enter the hospital. It's amazing how far a wig and fake facial hair will go to change a person's appearance. The uniform he wears over his t-shirt and shorts, stolen from a nearby laundromat, completes his disguise.

Wright is nothing if not resourceful.

For now, all he does is observe, see who is and who isn't allowed near Five-0's Commander, tracking the comings and goings of both hospital staff and others. It's not a matter of not wanting to be caught; Wright has already made peace with the fact that exacting his revenge on McGarrett will most likely be the last thing he ever does. However, he _does_ want to make sure his plans do not fail this time.

So he takes his time, posing as a nursing assistant, ducking in and out of rooms and doing whatever little jobs the nurses and doctors throw his way. His quiet presence does not raise any suspicion, and he is grateful for the fact that having to take care of a chronically ill mother during his teenage years has left him with enough experience to be able to carry out the basic tasks given to him.

As he pushes a trolley loaded with clean linen through the hallway, he freezes as he suddenly spots Noa Hale, one of the young canyoneers coming out of a room. _'You were going to be the next one to pay!'_ he thinks, but manages to keep the fury off his face.

Then he realizes the room the young man comes out off may very well be occupied by that other brat, the one who jumped off the cliff; the one who _lived_. Immediately the plan he had thought up changes, his mind making lightning speed modifications by using this new information.

Because, oh, if what he suspects is true ... this is just too _good _not to take advantage of!

Wright glances at the number of the room, memorizing it so he can look up the occupant's information, then slowly continues to walk down the hallway. He doesn't notice Marc Lejeune coming out of Steve's ICU cubicle, doesn't see him stop and stare at the dark haired man who pushes the cart away from Kai's room and continues down the hallway.

Marc watches him until he rounds a corner, a thoughtful look on his face. Then he turns around and goes back into the ICU cubicle, completely forgetting the cup of coffee he was going to get. Something about the man has managed to grab his complete attention; there's something off there. 

* * *

Chin and Kono are standing at the main PC table when Danny comes walking into HQ. "Hey Danny!" Kono's sincere greeting manages to put an answering smile on Danny's otherwise exhausted looking features. "How was Gracie?" Danny plunks down in one of the chairs at the conference table, gratefully accepting the coffee Chin has quickly gotten him.

"She was fine, although a little sad" Danny says before taking a sip and blissfully closing his eyes for a second. "Upset because she can't go see Steve yet." He doesn't mention his daughter's fear of never being able to see Steve again, his own brutally honest words. It's just too painful too mention, considering how realistic that situation still might prove to be.

"Aahh, she misses her Uncle Steve, huh?" Kono sits down next to him, placing her small but capable hand on Danny's. "I think we all do, cuz." There is a sad little undertone in Chin's voice which catches Danny's attention; sometimes he forgets that this whole situation has not left his team members untouched either. They all care deeply about Steve.

Danny scrapes his throat, smiles at Kono, then looks at Chin. "I just popped in to see if you guys had found any new information on Wright." He watches as Chin shakes his head. "No, sorry. Guy seems to have gone up in smoke, like he knows we're on to him."

_Damn it!_

It's not what Danny wants to hear, not something which eases his mind with regard to Steve's safety. Or that of the young people who helped get him off the mountain. "You think one of the guys we arrested managed to tip him off?" A little frown appears on Chin's face. "Well, never say never, but we have them in complete isolation, so I'd say it's highly unlikely. "

Kono gets up, then lets her fingers fly over the PC console. "We have HPD at the hospital, and there have been two unmarked cars watching Wright's place from the moment we got all the information out of that one guy. There's no way anybody could've tipped him off without us knowing it, and he hasn't been spotted there since, so he couldn't know about the arrests either."

"Which means" says Lou as he comes walking in, "that Wright must've been at the hospital already. The jacked-up security there is the only way he could've known we're on to him." Danny turns pale while the others are silent as they let the implications of Lou's words sink in.

Kono is the first to voice their anxious thoughts. "He might even already be _in_ the hospital." Chin sprints to the PC table to call up the hospital's security footage while Lou places a call to HPD. Danny is halfway out the door already, yelling back over his shoulder. "I'm going over there, you guys try and give everybody a heads-up about Wright. And I mean _everybody!_"

With that he's gone. 

* * *

Nobody sees Peter Wright carefully opening the door to linen room. He rolls the cart inside, quickly looks over his shoulder to see if anybody has spotted him, then quietly slips inside the room and closes the door behind him.

From his right pocket, he withdraws a vial of potassium chloride he has just filched from a medicine cart in one of the rooms. It fits perfectly within the new plan he has devised, a plan which will finally result in what he has wanted for so long: _revenge_!

Scanning the room, he notices an empty plastic carrying bag with the logo of a local clothing brand. He takes off the uniform, stuffs it in the bag and then buries the vial in between the folds of clothing. Then he opens the door, and when the coast is clear he quickly sneaks out again.

Calmly walking down the hallway, he throws the two HPD officers stationed at McGarrett's ICU cubicles a friendly smile as he passes them; they nod in answer. When Wright steps out of the hospital, having just nodded at more police officers stationed at the main entrance, the warm afternoon breeze blows unnoticed through the synthetic hair on his head as his smile changes to a grin.

This will be much easier than he thought. 

* * *

The sensation of pain has been slowly but steadily seeping through to his subconsciousness. He still doesn't recognize it yet as such, but his body does respond to it, speeding up his heart beat, causing small but restless movements.

The restlessness continues, the not-yet fully perceived sensation of pain sparking along previously dormant nerves, causing neurons to fire within his brain. His system, although still far removed from being completely activated, is being nudged out of its auto-pilot setting, the survival mode it has been in.

Despite the fact that the deviated flow of oxygen resulting from the tracheostomy tube barely allows any air to reach his vocal chords, a soft, sighing moan escapes his lips. 

* * *

Marc Lejeune sits next to the bed of Five-0's Commander, absentmindedly resting his hand on an unmoving arm; the man in the hallway is still on his mind. There was just something about the way he had lingered outside of Kai's room, looking at the room number, that caused a sense of unease to settle in his gut.

The soft moan of pain rips through Marc's thought process right before the heart monitor starts shrilling an alarm. His head jerks up to check the monitor, and when he looks down at the man in the bed he can see the eyes are moving behind closed lids, then feels small twitches start up in the arm he has his hand on, seeing the fingers starting to spasm.

He lunges for the call button just as a nurse comes hurrying in. The woman checks the monitor as she turns off the alarm, looks down at the man in the bed, then at Marc. "What happened?" Marc shakes his head. "Nothing, nothing happened." He turns towards the bed again as the nurse rushes out.

"Hey Commander, what's going on, huh?" Marc gently checks the pulse underneath his hand, then settles his hand on the spasming fingers. He sees more twitches in other parts of the Commander's body, feels the slight strain of muscles communicating through his own hand.

Placing his other hand on the man's head, he softly speaks. "The doctor is on his way; just hang on." 

* * *

The distant murmur reaches down into the darkness he is in, not even close to resembling actual words, but he is aware enough to realize that the source of the sound, although somehow familiar, is different from the one that has been comforting him.

His body is now in constant, although barely noticeable movement. Muscles contract, then relax as his mind slowly becomes aware of the nerves sending messages of his injuries along to the neurons in his brain, who then send their chemical messages to other neurons to cause them to fire in turn.

He moans again. 

* * *

Danny is rapidly walking down the hallway when he hears the shrill of an alarm. Shocked, he sees a nurse rushing into Steve's ICU cubicle, then come out a moment later again, hurrying off. He starts running, then roughly pushes aside one of the HPD officers leaning around the corner to take a look before entering the cubicle.

He's just in time to hear Steve moan.

"What the fuck is happening?!" Danny anxiously stares at Steve, immediately noticing the restless movements, the small frown on his friend's brow, the calming hand Marc has placed on his head. The other man shakes his head. "I don't really know, Detective Williams; there doesn't seem to be a medical emergency, but the nurse is getting the doctor."

Just then the nurse returns with the doctor in tow. The man quickly looks at the monitors' outputs, checks the data, then gently lifts one of Steve's eyelids to shine a light in his eye before barking out an order to the nurse.

Marc pulls Danny back from the bed so the doctor has room to move; the small detective nearly strains against his hands, desperate to be close to his friend who's in obvious discomfort. "What's going on?" The doctor doesn't respond, instead pulling back the sheet from the frame covering Steve's lower body, then gingerly examining the open, gruesome looking wounds.

Danny feels his stomach clench again at the sight of the raw, red flesh of Steve's legs, and he feels Marc's hands tightening on his shoulders. The nurse returns with a syringe in her hands, and the doctor takes it from her before injecting its contents into one of the IVs.

As the doctor moves away to write something down on a chart, Danny walks up to the bed, then places his hand on Steve's head, stroking his hair. "What did you just give him, what was that you put in his IV? And what the hell just happened?"

The doctor throws Danny a strange look, then looks down at the chart again. "We just gave the Commander a strong analgesic, a painkiller."

Danny sits down on the chair next to the bed, continuing to gently strokes Steve's hair and forehead, watching the small frown smooth out as the painkiller which has just been administered starts to do its work. The beep of the heart monitor gears down from its previous erratic pace and settles into a lower, steady rhythm; the twitching of the right hand stops, the fingers relaxing.

Turning as Marc places a hand on his shoulder, Danny throws him a small, grateful smile, then looks at the doctor. "So why did he need a painkiller? What happened?" The doctor finishes writing down the details of both the event and the administered drugs, then turns towards Danny.

"Something I quite honestly didn't expect, Detective Williams." Danny lifts an eyebrow, and the doctor hurries to explain himself further.

"Commander McGarrett is showing signs of waking up."

Stunned, swallowing back the fear that had jumped up in his throat, causing his own heart to gallop like a race horse, Danny stares at the doctor. "Waking up?" The man nods. "Not in the sense of being able to sit up and talk any time soon, but he no longer is so deeply unconscious that he doesn't register pain."

Danny frowns, trying to wrap his mind around the situation. "So ... the fact that he feels pain, that's a good thing then?" The doctor nods again. "Yes. It also means we'll have to monitor him to make sure he remains comfortable, that he receives adequate pain relief. He needs all his energy to heal now."

Nodding his understanding, Danny turns towards the bed as the doctor leaves. A soft cough reminds him of the fact that Marc Lejeune is still there. "If you don't mind, Detective Williams, I'll be leaving now. I have to report for duty in a little while."

Danny turns towards the young man standing behind him. "I, ehm ... I haven't thanked you yet for covering for me. Trust me, I would be severely reprimanded if my mother knew I was forgetting my manners, putting the Williams name to shame." Marc grins. "No problem, Detective, no problem at all." Then he turns serious. "What just happened with the Commander, that's a good thing. It means he's making his way back."

Danny slowly exhales, willing the tension to leave his body. "I gathered as much. Guess all we can do now is wait." Marc smiles gently at the blond man sitting next to the bed. "Like I said, Detective, the Commander obviously is a fighter. I'm sure we don't have to wait too long."

With that, he nods and leaves.

Sighing, Danny turns back towards the bed again, placing his hand on Steve's arm. He is utterly and completely exhausted from all the emotions of the past few days, the fear of his best friend's hold on life slipping away, having to watch him lose this battle.

The reassurances of both the doctor and Marc that Steve is not only holding his own but actually managing to improve has gone a little way towards relieving his anxiety, but he knows he won't really believe it until Steve is sitting up in bed and demanding to be released from hospital.

Carefully leaning over the bed, Danny puts his mouth near Steve's ear, his breath causing a small wisp of dark hair to flutter against his friend's temple as he softly whispers his resolve to help Steve through this.

"I'm back, babe; I'm here for you. You're doing great, you're going to get better."

He watches as the lines around Steve's eyes smooth out, feels the last trembling within the body fade away to complete stillness. It tears Danny apart, the knowledge that this is a fight he can't help his partner with, that all he can do is whisper comforting words as he is forced to watch Steve go through this battle by himself.

"Sleep, babe, so you can heal." 

* * *

The murmuring disappeared, and soon afterwards so did the sensation causing his body to be so restless. Just before he fully sunk back into the dark sea, the other familiar and comforting sounds reached him again, translated themselves into barely perceived words.

_Sleep, babe, so you can heal._

Soothing, the voice reached down to the place where he now resides, into the calm darkness where the previously minuscule spark of life is now slowly evolving into a small but steady flame.

He sleeps.


	11. End Game, or Karma

AUTHOR'S NOTE - This update was a long time coming, and I apologize to those people who may have thought I would not finish this. I will finish all of my stories.  
Promise.

* * *

"There's a natural law of Karma that vindictive people,  
who go out of their way to hurt others,  
will end up broke(n) and alone."

\- Sylvester Stallone -

* * *

11\. END GAME, OR KARMA

Noa is quietly whistling to himself as he walks down the hall of the hospital. The constant police monitoring is getting on his nerves, but he is determined to remain upbeat; after all, it's for their own protection. The time he usually spends training and canyoneering is now put to good use, as Kai is in desperate need of some cheering up. Even though his friend is happy about the positive prognosis the doctors have given him, it's still a long haul before he's even able to get up and start physical therapy.

"This body cast, man ... you have no idea! I'm itching in places I didn't even know I _could_ itch!" Kai had been pretty grumpy the day before, and he'd wrangled a promise out of his friend to try and spend as much time as possible with him. "I'm staring the paint right off the wall by now. I'm _bored_, man!"

So Noa had asked the cop stationed outside his house to drop him off at the hospital earlier today, the man only too happy to comply, saving him from a boring day of watching Noa's house and drinking stale coffee out of a thermos. They figure there is plenty of surveillance at the hospital for him to move around without a personal watch dog.

Just as Noa is about to enter Kai's room, he bumps into an orderly. "Hey, watch it, brah!" Noa scowls at the man, who flashes him a toothy smile.

"Sorry, _kâne_, guess I didn't see you there." The man winks at Noa, who feels the usual rage surge up whenever he suspects his height is the butt of some joke. He sighs though, instead of mouthing off.

"Yeah, OK ..."

When he turns towards the bed, Kai is grinning at him. "You should wear one of those security flags little kids have on their bikes, brah." Noa scowls at him.

"Funny ... you should be a comedian." He pulls up a chair and sits next to Kai, who seems restless. "What up? You have another itch? Maybe you have a _ko'i'i_ ..." Noa holds up his little finger. "But you're so little, you should have plenty of room in there, huh?"

Kai glowers at him. "_Kuli kuli _..." He sounds out of breath somehow, and there are droplets of sweat appearing on his forehead.

"You OK?" Noa throws Kai a curious look. His friend frowns.

"Dunno, chest hurts. Maybe the stuff that orderly gave me."

As Noa starts to feel concern at his friend's obvious discomfort, Kai suddenly gasps for breath, wheezing. "Kai! Hey man, are you ..." Before Noa manages to finish his sentence, Kai's eyes roll back in his head and he stops breathing.

Noa screams.

* * *

"Cuz, play that last part back again!" Chin frowns at the sudden agitated tone in Kono's voice. They're at HQ, reviewing the hospital's security footage, trying to ascertain whether Wright has indeed managed to slip past the beefed up security. Chin hits stop on the file he's just been playing, then rewinds it frame by frame.

"There! Scroll back a little more and then play it from there." The image is somewhat fuzzy, the quality of the file less than desirable. As Chin stares at the footage, he can see a man coming out of what appears to be a utility room; he has half-long, black hair and a mustache, and is carrying a plastic bag. As the man passes the cops stationed at Steve's room, he smiles and nods, the officers politely nodding back.

A cold chill runs down Chin's spine as Kono sucks in a breath. "That's him; that's Wright, Chin!" Chin freezes the frame, zooms in on the face, then quickly pulls up a photo from Wright's file. Kono is right, her uncanny ability to memorize and recognize faces paying off again. He grabs his cell and calls Lou.

"Lou, Wright was at the hospital yesterday." Chin listens to the other man exclaiming his concern, then asking a question. "Yes, we're certain; Kono recognized him from Queen's security footage. He walked past the cops bold as daylight. He was right _there_, Lou! Just outside Steve's room." Chin frowns at something Lou says. "No, Danny's cell is off because he's at the ICU. I'll call the ICU's nurses station, you inform HPD." He holds the phone a little further away as a series of expletives finally explode out of the cell. "Yeah, I agree. Not HPD's finest hour."

Kono raises an eyebrow at Chin. "Danny's there, right? I mean, with Steve. He wasn't planning on going anywhere?"

Chin shakes his head. "No, he was going to spend the rest of the afternoon with Steve; Grace has to go to school anyway. Even if Wright's there now, it should be OK. At least the cops will now have been warned to keep a better look out." Kono sighs, sounding a little relieved.

"I guess we managed to move one step ahead of Wright this time."

* * *

Noa's screams reverberate down the hall, and the two police officers outside Steve's room whip their heads towards the sound. "That's coming from Kai Kalama's room!" As one cop heads over at a dead run, the second one sticks his head inside Steve's cubicle. Danny has already gotten out of the chair next to the bed, alarmed at the sounds coming from the hall.

"What the hell is going on?!" Danny whispers urgently, moving towards the door.

"Don't know, but somebody is panicking pretty badly. It's the room of that kid who got your partner off the mountain." The two men move out to the hall just as a doctor with several nurses in tow rushes towards Kai's room, where Noa is still screaming frantically.

Quickly checking that the hallway is empty, Danny runs after the medical staff disappearing into the room. When he enters the room, he sees the other police officer holding Noa in his arms; there are tears streaming down the young man's face as he tries to approach the bed, and he keeps repeating "He's not _breathing!_" in a stuttering voice.

Danny walks up to the kid, placing his hands on his shoulders. "OK, OK, calm down; look, they're working on him, see?" Noa almost pants, his eyes wide open in panic, taking in the activity around his friend.

"Does anybody know what the hell happened?!" The doctor grunts; he has removed the front part of Kai's halo vest and is performing CPR on him.

Danny gently nudges Noa. "You were here, weren't you? What happened? The doctor needs to know so he can treat him correctly." The blond detective positions himself between Noa and the bed, trying to focus the young man's attention on the question.

"He ... he started gasping, I don't know ... choking I guess. And then his eyes just rolled back and ..."

The doctor grunts again, meanwhile going all out doing chest compressions. A nurse and orderly are setting up the defibrillation equipment, and when ready, the doctor orders them to shock Kai while he continues CPR. "Again!" he barks. "And where's that epi!"

The orderly injects the epinephrine into the IV running from Kai's hand. "Flush it at high rate, we need to get it to circulate ASAP." Still compressing Kai's chest, the doctor looks over his shoulder at Noa. "Your friend has gone into cardiac arrest, and I want to know why! What happened, anything unusual?"

Noa shakes his head, then frowns. "There was this guy, this orderly I guess. Kai said maybe he was feeling bad from the stuff the guy gave him."

For just one second, the doctor stops the CPR and glares at Noa. "_What_ stuff? I didn't order anything ... check his status chart!" The doctor resumes the CPR while the nurse looks at the chart at the foot of the bed.

"There's nothing here, Doctor, no notes about anything being administered."

Danny stares at Noa, a sinking feeling in his gut. "What did this orderly look like? Do you remember?" Noa shakes his head, looking at his friend, still motionless, still _not_ breathing.

"I ... I don't _know_, man! Maybe it was the same guy Marc talked about last night, the guy he saw staring at Kai's room yesterday."

The minute the words leave his mouth, he looks up at Danny, face slack with shock. "You don't think ... I mean, do you ..."

He's interrupted by a nurse rushing in through the door; she takes in the scene with one quick look, then turns towards Danny. "Detective Williams, I just spoke to your partner, Chin Ho Kelly. He wanted me to pass you a message. Something about the right guy being at the hospital?"

Danny blanches, uttering an expletive. The next instance he is running out of the room, the police officer hot on his heels.

* * *

They don't see him slipping out of the linen room and going into the ICU cubicle, all of them too busy and frantic trying to save the life of that little fucker down the hall. The cops previously stationed at the Commander's door and that _haole _detective have rushed towards the sound of screams for help coming from down the hall, conscious of the fact that the boy there needs protection as well.

Protection from _him_.

He has bet on the cops' instinctive reaction, a bet which will pay off because _now_, now he'll be getting today's special offer, the two-for-one deal; McGarrett _and_ Squirrel Boy. It feels like Christmas has come early.

Gently closing the door behind him, he looks at the figure in the bed, nearly every bare patch of skin utilized for the attachment of machine lines and tubes, radiating out of the man's body like a crazy wind-blown spider web. There's some sort of contraption covering his lower body. He looks ... _awful_.

Wright grins.

He approaches the bed, taking in the drawn features, the pale skin tone, the many swaths of bandages. The tube coming out of the Commander's neck draws a special interest, and he quickly looks up to find the relevant alarm switch. Flipping it off, his eyes immediately go the alarm connected to the heart monitor, and he switches that off as well.

"So, let's see here. I take it you need this ..." and his hands deftly detach the tube coming out of the man's neck, "to breathe, right?" He watches as the man before him becomes agitated, muscles twitching, fingers clenching and unclenching. "Yes, you do, don't you. The tough bad ass depends on one little plastic tube to stay alive. Who'd have thought ..."

He cocks his head as a high pitched wheeze starts coming from the throat, and he watches in fascination as the man's mouth subconsciously opens up in an effort to draw in more oxygen. The rhythm on the heart monitor increases as the heart starts speeding up in order to provide the body with sufficient air.

"I'd say your luck has finally run out, Commander McGarrett."

* * *

He's being slowly pushed towards the dark void, but this time he is not willing, struggling against it. His body is in distress, and even though he doesn't realize why, or is aware enough to know what's happening, he fights it with every bit of subconscious strength.

_No ..._

* * *

"You're still strong, even like this, aren't you McGarrett?" Wright looks down at the gasping man, notices the lips are slowly turning blue. "I'd love to sit and watch you suffer, like you made _me_ suffer. Unfortunately, I don't think I have the time for that."

He cocks his head, hears muffled sounds coming from somewhere down the hall, listens to somebody shouting. Then he turns his attention back to to the man in the bed. "I'm afraid I'll have to speed things up a bit. So this is 'goodbye' I guess. _Finally!_"

Wright quickly pulls the thin pillow from underneath the man's head, then places it lengthwise across both the mouth and the hole in the neck. As he starts to apply pressure, the body beneath his hands reacts more strongly as the oxygen supply is completely cut off.

"Tut tut, don't fight me, Commander. Just let it happen, and it will all be over very soon."

Pressing down harder, he feels the muscles in the body starting to spasm, hears the hands starting to beat a staccato rhythm against the mattress. A sneer appears on his face, his eyes bright with a glowing, intense hatred. "Ah yes, _now_ you really know what it feels like, don't you. Now you know how it feels when you're about to _die_!"

A maniacal, cackling laugh erupts from Wright's mouth.

* * *

Danny has drawn his weapon while pelting down the hallway, the police officer following his example. He's mentally praying, praying like he's never done before, that he won't be too late.

'_Please, oh please God, let Steve be OK!'_

As they come to a halt before Steve's cubicle, they can see a shadow moving around inside. Danny turns towards the police officer, holds up three fingers, then two, then one before throwing open the door and rushing inside, gun at the ready.

"_Stop_ what you're doing! Five-Oh!"

It seems time has slowed down, giving Danny ample opportunity to take in the scene before him. Wright is standing next to Steve's bed, a deranged look on his face as he half turns around; he's holding down something, something large and white and ...

Danny takes in the body on the bed, almost arching up against Wright's hands, hands that are holding a _fucking pillow_ over Steve's mouth ...

Before he can think logically, Danny throws down his gun, leaps across the room, _screaming_ at Wright. "You mother_fucker_! Stop! You're fucking _killing_ him!" Some part of his brain, a part not suffused with hate and blood lust and an urge to just _pound_ the insane bastard standing next to his partner into a bloody pulp, to just tear apart the asshole which is _choking_ the life out of his friend; that part registers the insane laughter coming out of Wright's mouth, seconds before he giggles "I _know_!"

Wrapping his hands around Wright's neck, Danny jerks him backward, falling to the floor with the man toppling on top of him. "You _bastard!_" He slips an arm underneath Wright's shoulder, then locks his hand behind his neck. For a second the thought enters his mind that it will be _so_ easy to just apply pressure until that neck snaps, but the next instance the man is lifted off of him, then wrestled to the ground by the police officer.

What happens next is something that Danny can never fully replay in his mind, no matter how hard he tries in the months that follow. Somehow, the crazy asshole, _still_ laughing, manages to slip from underneath the cop, scrabbles his way towards the gun Danny has dropped on the floor, and before either he or the cop can react, he points the weapon at Steve.

"Die, McGarrett; _die_!"

Danny doesn't even think, throwing himself in the line of fire, and as the shot rings out, he feels an intense heat settling in his chest. The world suddenly shrinks down, turning gray at the edges, and a strange humming noise settles in his head as he feels himself slowly sinking to the floor. Blinking, he vaguely notices that smile still plastered on Wright's face, followed by a strange, almost comically surprised look as a red, weeping eye suddenly appears in the man's forehead.

He never hears the accompanying sound as the police officer neatly puts a second bullet in what's left of Wright's brain.

* * *

The first thing Danny notices is that his throat feels as if somebody has repeatedly sanded it with very coarse sand paper. The second thing is that the room he's in is just too ... "Oh, bright lights, _bright_ lights!" As he quickly closes his eyes again, he hears somebody walking, then senses the light is dimmed to a more bearable level. "Thank you, whoever you are." He croaks like a frog.

"Don't worry, Jersey. My pleasure."

Danny cautiously opens his eyes again, just as Lou sits down on a chair next to his bed. "How are you feeling?" An almost hysterical laugh erupts from Danny's mouth, causing a flash of pain in his chest. He groans.

"Believe it or not, but I feel as if I got shot in the chest by some crazy asshole."

Lou lets out a deep, rumbling chuckle, and Danny smiles despite the pain. "And my throat feels as if somebody has shoveled a truck load of sand in it." He watches as Lou takes a cup from the side table, then holds it out to him. "What's that?"

"It's ice, Danny. You were intubated during the surgery to remove the bullet, so it's pretty normal to have a sore throat."

Danny frowns. "Ice, you say. Well, in my opinion, ice without whiskey is almost as great a sin as pineapple on pizza. Either abomination should not even be allowed to occur in the same universe where I live." He stares at the big man standing next to his bed, watches him sigh, then smile.

"Jersey, I think the only time you shut up is when you're knocked out by drugs." Lou folds his arms, almost as if he's daring Danny to contradict him. Which, in all honesty, he probably would have, if a sudden thought didn't present itself.

"Lou, Steve ... and the kid. Are they OK?"

Anxiously, he scans his team mate's face, feeling a rush of relief when Lou smiles.

"Better than OK, I think. Steve actually woke up before you did, and even though he's in a lot of pain, his doctor continuously reminds us that his being awake is nothing short of a miracle. He's asleep again now, though." Lou sighs. "The man has got a long, _long_ road of recovery in front of him."

Danny closes his eyes again, feeling weak with emotion. Steve is _awake_! Against all odds, his stubborn partner has done it again; he's come out of a situation that, logically speaking, had no escape routes. He opens his eyes again as Lou continues to fill him in on what has happened while he was out.

"They found a vial in Wright's pocket, something called potassium chloride. It was concentrated stuff which usually needs to be diluted. That's why the kid, _Kai_, went into cardiac arrest." Lou rubs a hand over his face. "One of the cops rushed it over to his room, showed it to the doctor. The guy then went ahead and injected the kid with sodium bicarbonate, something like Alka-Seltzer. He's been doing fie ever since, although they were talking about possible kidney flushing to get rid of the last effects of the potassium poisoning."

Danny remains silent for a while, trying to take it all in. Wright's ruthlessness in pursuing his revenge had almost cost not one, but two lives. Steve's and Kai's. If he hadn't ...

Lou throws him a pensive look, almost as if he can read Danny's mind. "That was a pretty crazy stunt you pulled there, Jersey, throwing yourself in front of that gun." Danny smiles up at him. Yeah, it had been crazy, but if he hadn't done so, then Steve ... The thought refuses to fully settle in his mind.

"That nut job was going to shoot my _partner_, Lou. Not just my partner, my _friend_. I couldn't just, no, just no." The flat-out refusal of accepting any other possibility is clearly visible on Danny's face. Lou nods, totally understanding Danny's motivation.

"I hear you, Jersey. It's all about _ohana_, right?"

Danny nods. That's what they are; that's what Steve is. _Family_. That's what they've got to protect.

"Right."

* * *

Well, that's about all she wrote. I think there's one more chapter in this, and then the book is closed and put on the shelf.  
I really do hope I managed to entertain everybody, and I'm very grateful for all the followers and support I have gotten.  
Thank you ;-)


	12. Epilogue

The last chapter, and this story is now complete!  
Thank you if you've been along for the ride, and I really appreciate all the comments and criticism which have helped create this story.  
If you people weren't there, I wouldn't be writing this.

* * *

"Don't walk behind me; I may not lead.  
Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow.  
Just walk beside me and be my friend."

\- Albert Camus -

* * *

12\. EPILOGUE

'_Hey babe, they told me you're doing better. You being a stubborn Ninja SEAL does pay off sometimes, huh?'_

_The voice reaches down to him, the words filtering down to the place where he's suspended, quietly healing. This time, however, he actually feels the hand that accompanies the voice, senses it gently rubbing his arm. And this time, the effort to surface is just minimal, taking him mere seconds to open his eyes._

* * *

"Hey."

The voice is gravelly and hoarse from the combination of having been intubated, the damaged trachea as well as not having used it for a while, but it's Steve's; just as the eyes looking at Danny are Steve's. Danny can't really describe the emotions currently surging through him like a tidal wave; Steve looking at him, _talking _to him.

"Wheelchair ... why?"

A little frown has appeared above the slate gray eyes, the color an indication of how far Steve has yet to go before he even comes close to being better. They're staring at the wheelchair Danny sits in, then move back up to his face with a quizzical look.

"Oh ... this thing?" Danny taps the arm rest, looking down at it to buy himself some time in order to get rid of the lump in his throat. "I'm just being lazy, you know; spending so much time with you in hospital has just worn me out." He winks at Steve, knowing he won't buy his story, but trying nonetheless. The frown on his friend's face deepens.

"Liar. Sweats. Slippahs. Also, IV." Steve's eyes pointedly rest on each item before looking Danny in the eye again. "Why? No BS."

Danny sighs. He's trying to come up with some explanation which won't upset Steve unnecessarily, as it's obvious nobody has enlightened him yet with regard to the incident that got him shot. However, lying has never been one of his strong points. "I, ehm ... I may have gotten shot." He cocks his head, waiting for the reaction he's certain will come.

"Shot?!" Raising his voice causes Steve to cough, a deep, rattling sound which results in a painful grimace. Danny moves forward, placing his hand on Steve's arm again, trying to calm him down.

"Hey, hey, easy there, babe. I'm still here, see? They got the bullet out and I'll be right as rain before you can say 'I love pineapples'." He watches as the worn out joke puts a little smile on Steve's lips, then sighs as it quickly disappears and is replaced by another frown.

"Shot ... who? How?"

A calm voice from the doorway answers before Danny has the chance.

"Danny jumped in front of the bullet your old friend Peter Wright intended to kill you with." Danny turns around, raising an eyebrow at Chin.

"Obviously Steve's not the only ninja on our team. Sneaky, aren't we?" Danny meets the wink he receives with a huff. "Devious, the whole bunch of you. That includes your cousin and," he turns around and points at Steve, "you as well. It would've been nice if a mention of these nefarious activities had been described in the contract before I signed. That, or a warning: _Beware, joining Five-0 means exposure to stealthy individuals who tend to lurk out of sight._ A mention of being shot on a regular basis, or sprouting untimely gray hairs from worrying about one's partner would've been nice as well."

Danny sighs.

"You regret ... joining?"

Rolling his eyes, Danny shakes his head at Steve's soft but serious question. "Is _that_ what you heard ... no, is that what I _said_ ?! No, it isn't. I was making an attempt at humor here, but obviously the surgeons have removed what little capacity you had at understanding said humor." He leans forward. "Steven, I'm going to say this once, just _once_, and then never again. Well, until you need reminding again, but ..."

Scraping his throat, emotions almost getting the better of him, Danny stares into his friend's eyes. "I will never, _ever_ regret the day that I joined Five-0 and met you. OK, babe? Are you getting this? Does that get through that thick skull of yours? Admittedly, there are days that I can't stand you, and there are days that I may say that I wish I'd never set foot on this rock teeming with lethal coconuts and pineapples ... but hear this: I cannot imagine, correction, refuse to _ever_ consider not having you as a partner, as a _friend_! You got that, babe? _Ever_! So please do not entertain said thought."

The two stare at each other, both their eyes misting over, until Chin coughs. "Ehm, is this the moment that I should leave and give you two some privacy, or ..."

Danny blinks to clear the wetness in his eyes before turning around. "Har-di-har. If that was an attempt at humor you failed miserably, my friend. Maybe humor is just a rare commodity here, because you both seem to be lacking it on a grandiose scale." He shoots an exasperated look at Chin, now standing next to him.

"I wouldn't want to intrude on any new found happiness, is all." Chin winks at Danny, then looks at Steve, watching them both intently.

"Peter Wright?"

Chin nods. "That man was bearing a serious grudge towards you for shooting him way back when. Seems he has been planning his revenge ever since."

Steve is still trying to wrap his foggy brain around the situation. "In custody, or hospital?"

Crossing his arms before him, Chin shakes his head. "No. Mister Wright learned the hard way that revenge has the tendency to back-fire or, in this case, have an HPD officer fire two bullets into your brain after you've shot a member of Five-0." He nods at Danny. "Wright is currently enjoying the hospitality of one of the cooler drawers at Max's facility."

There's a myriad of emotions running over Steve's features, and Danny carefully leans over, wincing at the painful, tugging sensation in his chest. The discomfort he's experiencing though is nothing compared to the road to recovery which lies ahead for Steve, and he knows how the man internalizes everything, a really undesirable character trait in his current condition.

"Babe, listen. There's plenty of time to rehash events and make sense of everything, but right now you're better off getting some sleep, OK?" He smiles fondly at his friend. "We almost _lost_ you, Steven, so do us all a favor and aim that laser focus of yours on getting well, instead of trying to figure out the technical aspects of a now shut and closed case."

Steve barely manages to stifle a yawn, then flashes Danny a lopsided small grin. "Detective Williams. Always looking out for ... others."

As Danny answers his smile, Chin utters a small huff. "A good thing in your case, boss. You need all the looking-out-for you can get."

Barely able to keep his eyes open, Steve glances at Chin. "Yeah. And you guys," he yawns again, "provide it in abundance."

Watching Steve finally give in and close his eyes, falling into a deep, healing sleep, Danny gently places his hand on his friend's chest. "You go get some rest, babe. Dream good dreams."

"Sleep well, boss," says Chin, and then rolls Danny's wheelchair out of the room.

* * *

The moon is reflecting over the tiny waves rolling into the shoreline, creating the illusion of little sparkling diamonds washing up on the beach. A cool breeze finally offers some relief from what has been a stifling hot day.

"Penny for your thoughts." Danny glances at Steve, taking in the small frown, the far-away look in his eyes as he stares out into the night. Sighing, Steve readjusts his position in the chair, grimacing as he shifts his legs.

"Those stilts of yours bothering you again?"

"A bit."

At least Steve admits it now, having become painfully aware that not disclosing any discomfort, even studiously _ignoring_ it actually hampers his healing instead of speeding it up. It has been a very difficult half year for him, six months filled with frustration and anger and, yes, even loud cursing and yelling on the worst days.

Days on which he has become more grateful than ever to have Danny by his side, continuously _at_ his side during each and every step towards his recovery.

Even when his frustration would make him yell and curse at Danny, the one person who deserved it less than anyone else, his friend never left him to fend for himself; stubbornly ignoring him whenever he would scream at him to _Get the fuck OUT!_, instead calmly retaining his position and encouraging him, then catching and steadying him whenever he would lose his balance, be it physically or mentally.

Danny has been there throughout the whole, agonizing process.

The procedure of closing the wound left by the emergency fasciotomy doctors had to perform in order to relieve the pressure in his leg has taken place while still in hospital, as well as the two additional surgeries he's had to undergo to repair the damaged muscles and nerves in his left arm. There's a sizable scar running from the inside of his elbow almost down to his wrist, but at least he has regained the full function of his hand and fingers, something which he wouldn't dare bet on just a few months earlier.

However, his legs are a different story. Even though all the fractures have been neatly repaired, the separated pieces of bone nailed together, the fact that _both_ legs have been affected has really thrown up a bunch of hurdles. Whereas the weight of one injured leg can be supported by the second, healthy leg, _two_ injured legs means calling on every bit of physical and mental strength in order to progress.

An exhaustive, slow progress which has taught Steve a lot about patience and self-control.

* * *

Just shy of two months into his recovery, Steve decided to throw caution to the wind and had gone swimming, absolutely certain that being in the sea would prove to be far more beneficial than plodding through lap after lap in the physical therapist's claustrophobic pool.

When he hadn't even covered a fifth of his usual distance, his body had been seized by the most god-awful cramps, catching him so completely off-guard that he had disappeared underneath the surface and gulped in a mouthful of water. Coughing and spluttering he had tried to stay afloat, only to double up from the next series of cramps and go under again.

He'd almost given up then, disgusted by the miserable, ineffective lump of meat he'd become, intent on just letting himself float, just letting the ocean take him wherever she wanted, just ... quit, and little oxygen-deprivation stars had started to appear on the edge of his sight, signaling imminent unconsciousness.

Just as his air depleted body had started to sink, he suddenly felt himself being grabbed, _yanked_ upwards towards the surface. Being held on his back by a firm, strong hand towing him back to shore, he had sluggishly blinked up at the sky, gulping in lungs full of air.

When he was hauled from the water and dumped unceremoniously on the beach, he'd locked eyes with an angry, no, _furious_ looking Danny, a Danny who looked like something the cat drug in, his drenched shirt and slacks sticking to his body, outlining his square, muscular build.

A Danny who was breathing harshly, not speaking a _single_ word, who fell to his knees and started massaging his legs when another series of cramps hit him and almost took his breath away again.

The moment he started shivering, both from cold and sheer exhaustion, Danny had managed to get him to stand up and, supporting his full weight, had guided him into the house, into the guest bathroom and placed him underneath a warm shower, keeping him there until his eyes nearly closed and he was almost asleep on his feet.

After stripping off his swimming trunks, batting away his hands, and roughly drying him off, Danny had to nearly carry him to the couch in the living room, burying him underneath a pile of blankets.

It was then, and only then, when Danny had spoken.

"If you ever, _ever_ pull a stunt like that again, I'm going to let you drown. You hear me, McGarrett? I will let you drown and then shoot you to make sure you're dead!"

Even as emotionally stunted as Steve was, he had sensed the anxiety underneath the anger, had seen the naked fear in the blue eyes staring at him, and he realized how utterly _stupid_ he had been, how _selfish_ his action had been.

"Sorry," he'd whispered, just before sheer exhaustion closed his eyes.

The last words he'd heard before sleep pulled him down were "You'd better be, you big oaf! You scared the living daylights out of me!"

When he woke up several hours later, the pain in his legs from having gone far beyond the boundaries of what was sensible, of what were specific doctor's orders ejecting him towards wakefulness, he found himself dressed in sleep pants and a t-shirt and Danny still there, staring at him with a quizzical look on his face.

"What?" he'd asked, unable to decipher the look on his friend's face.

Danny had sighed. "I'm trying to determine whether or not Wright will still get his revenge, whether you're going to kill yourself just to prove what a tough, stubborn, _stupid_ individual you are." He'd cocked his head at Steve. "Are you? Going to kill yourself, I mean. Have all our combined efforts to rescue you and heal you and help you recover been for naught? Because I'd like to know, Steven. I'd like to know if there's another chance that in the near future I'll come walking out onto the beach again and see my best friend drowning. Because I can tell you now, in all honesty, that I won't be able to deal with that. At _all_!"

Silent, shocked at the realization of how badly he had betrayed Danny's friendship by his thoughtless, selfish act, he had shaken his head. Danny had nodded then.

"Good. I'm glad we got that out of the way."

And from that moment on, Steve had adhered to each and every instruction he was given with regard to his recovery, the Do's and Dont's, no matter how much he balked at the restrictions, no matter how much he wanted to scream at the _slowness_ of it all.

In the end, it had paid off.

Even though he still wasn't a 100%, even though at the end of a very active day his legs would still hurt and sometimes even _scream _at him on a - literally - bone deep level, he was almost completely back to his former self.

And for the most part, he had Danny to thank for that.

* * *

"I guess inflation hits harder and faster than I thought. Dollar for your thoughts?"

The quip pulls him out of his revelry, pushes the thoughts of those horrible months firmly to the back of his mind. Turning, Steve smiles at Danny.

"Make it two, and I'll share."

Danny huffs. "Greedy bastard." Taking a swig from his beer, he stares at Steve, a quizzical look in his eyes. "What were you thinking, anyway? You seemed far away ..."

Flicking a hand in the air as if to dismiss his earlier thoughts, Steve shrugs. "Oh, you know ... stuff."

"Stuff? Interesting. Stuff, the man says. Would said 'stuff' have anything to do with Peter Wright and," Danny waves his hand in a sweeping motion to indicate Steve's body, "certain physical limitations you've had to endure?"

Swallowing at the sudden rush of emotions Danny's words evoke, Steve nods. "Yeah, basically." He coughs, then scrapes his throat. "You know, Danno, I never really ... I mean, I don't think I've thanked you for, you know, being there for me."

Taking his time before answering, Danny stares at Steve with a thoughtful look on his face, thinking back to the angst he'd experienced when Steve had gone missing, the horror he had felt during Steve's rescue and subsequent hospital admittance, the fear during his recovery, _praying_ that he would be OK again, that there wouldn't be any lasting damage. He takes another sip of his beer as if to lubricate his vocal chords, his voice sounding a bit rough around the edges when he finally answers.

"You're welcome, Steven. It's what friends do."

Steve stares at him, feeling a lump rise in his throat, making it impossible to speak. He nods his agreement. What Danny had done for him, he would do for Danny; without even a second of hesitation, without even the slightest doubt. He leans back into the chair, looking out at the sea again.

And silently thanks his lucky stars for the one thing which has become his mainstay, his _raison d'être_, the driving force in his life these days.

Friendship.


End file.
